by W. J. May
“Is it weird to admit that I really like it?” she asked, staring into the glass with a grin. “You look like some kind of pirate. But like... if that pirate was trapped inside a Jane Austen novel.”
Over the course of the last hour the seven friends had been completely, if unwillingly, transformed. Every last vestige of the twenty-first century had been stripped away. The hair had come down, the shoes had come off, and a small stack of designer clothes was piled in the corner.
They had been replaced with something different. Something from a slightly older time.
“Well, that’s perfect,” Devon replied dryly, still tugging on his sleeves. “What guy doesn’t dream of being trapped in a Jane Austen novel?”
Rae giggled and squeezed him even tighter, sliding her hands discreetly up his shirt.
As much as he might hate it, the clothes suited him perfectly. The doeskin boots, the fitted trousers, the loose white shirt, pulled open to show just the right amount of skin. He was every girl’s seventeenth-century fantasy. The kind who rode on horseback, saved helpless damsels, and still maintained a good relationship with his mother.
A regular Shakespearean hero—fidgeting self-consciously in the mirror.
“It’s this bloody jacket,” he muttered, tugging at the cuffs. “How am I supposed to fight in this thing? I can’t even raise my arms above...” He paused, noticing Rae’s hands for the first time. “I mean, we’re in the 1600s. What if I get into a...”
The hands slipped lower, tracing down the muscular lines of his stomach.
“...into a dual, or a...”
The nails came out, raking across his skin.
“Rae.”
A second later, they were face to face. She was grinning, leaning back in the circle of his arms. He was biting his lower lip, eyes dancing with amusement.
“Rae Kerrigan-Wardell, don’t go starting something you can’t finish.”
“What?” She leaned back innocently, making him support all of her weight as she playfully twirled a lock of her hair. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey, were you trying to say something?”
His eyebrows arched, no doubt with some sarcastic comeback, but it died on his lips when he glanced down and saw what she was wearing for the first time.
And THAT is why they invented the corset.
Just ten minutes earlier, she had been clinging to a wooden post cursing in every language she knew as Molly laced the strings up her back. Now that she was standing there, fully enjoying the look on her husband’s face, mild asphyxiation seemed a small price to pay.
“You...” He trailed off, temporarily speechless. Twice, he started and failed. In the end, he managed only a simple question. “Is that what you’re going to be wearing?”
Really?
There was a beat of silence. Then Rae burst out laughing.
“Um... yeah, babe.” She took him by the hands with an affectionate smile. “That’s kind of the point of buying it. You know... to wear.”
An adorable blush spread across his cheeks, but he seemed unable to taking his eyes off of her for a single second. Instead, he pulled her closer— slowly sliding his hands up her arms.
“It’s just... I might not be able to focus,” he confessed.
This time, it was Rae’s turn to blush. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to act casual while secretly thrilling with his words. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that? Is something distracting you?”
On most days he would have played along, bantering back and forth. Today, he found himself incapable. He simply smiled, pulling her out of sight behind the changing room curtain.
“I have an idea,” he murmured, trailing the tips of his fingers down her neck. “Why don’t you take it off? You know, just so I’ll be able to concentrate.” Her heartbeat quickened as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
She giggled again, shivering in spite of herself. “Right here, huh? In a seventeenth-century dressshop, surrounded by all of our friends?”
It seemed a rather obvious question but, again, Devon couldn’t care less. “Our friends can wait outside.” He fiddled with the ribbon at the top of her bodice, eyes twinkling with mischief, as he lifted her into the air. “It’ll just be a minute—”
“Just a minute, huh?”
The curtain yanked back to reveal Gabriel standing on the other side. Arms folded with a sardonic smile playing about his lips. A smile that made Rae want to strangle him in his sleep.
“I wouldn’t exactly go boasting about that,” he continued conversationally. “But if it’s really that important to you, I’d be perfectly willing to wait.”
Devon’s smile faded as Rae slid to the floor. It was a standoff. One where the men stared at each other, while she rolled her eyes with exasperation in between. A second later Devon was walking out of the changing room, looking decidedly less excited than when he’d walked in.
“Remind me again why we didn’t kill you when we had the chance?” he asked testily.
“A rare burst of intuition,” Gabriel replied cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder with a sparkling smile. “Can you even imagine how dull your life would be without me?”
“I imagine it quite often, actually.”
Rae hastily fixed the ribbons on her dress and followed them back to the main part of the house. The others were already paid up and waiting, shifting uncomfortably in their new clothes. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it might have actually been funny. Trapped in a distant century, trying desperately to get back to their own time, and yet they all looked as though they were headed to the same fancy-dress costume party.
Doublets, dresses, stockings, boots. All magnificently tailored and fitted to perfection. It was almost a shame they were leaving so quickly. For the first time since getting there, the seven friends looked like they could blend right in.
The impromptu wardrobe shift had taken every last schilling they had but, then again, they weren’t paying for clothes. They were paying for information. The kind that could get them home.
“So, how about it?” Gabriel demanded as the shopkeeper pocketed the last of the cash. It was decidedly less cordial than the last time he’d asked, but was before he’d been forced to wear a doublet. “Had any sudden bursts of inspiration you’d like to share?”
Her eyes flashed with a sarcastic smile, but she was true to her word. In fact, if Rae didn’t know better, she’d swear the old woman was enjoying herself.
“As a matter a fact, I did.” She smiled again, but cut to the chase. Both brisk and efficient as she told them everything she knew. “A man comes in here every few months. Always quiet, always dressed a bit... peculiarly. Much the same way as you.”
She pulled in a deep breath, well aware that they were hanging on every word.
“Lately, he’s been coming by much more often. Always in a hurry. Always asking for the same kind of clothing—”
“What kind of clothing?” Angel interjected, eyes cold and unyielding as she searched for any relevant detail. “Describe them.”
“Fancy.” The woman didn’t miss a beat. “Expensive. Long black overcoats, silk tunics, lots of stitching. Best I have. The orders are always the same, as is the address for delivery.”
It took a second for the word to sink in, then the gang pulled in a collective breath.
“And this address—” Julian smiled coaxingly, his lovely eyes fixed on the old woman, silently asking for more. “You wouldn’t happen to know it offhand, would you?”
She looked at each one of them in turn, drawing it out, making them wait, before her eyes crinkled with a wide smile. “Wait here. I’ll write it down.”
JUST FIVE MINUTES LATER, the gang was back on the street. They were broke, homeless, and dressed like the cast of Othello, but they were smiling nonetheless. They walked as quickly as their cumbersome clothes would allow, keeping their eyes straight ahead, before stopping suddenly on the next street and turning to each other with identical
anticipatory smiles.
“So, this is it.” Rae waved the paper triumphantly in the air. “We got him.”
“Good call with the dress shop,” Luke congratulated. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Yes,” Molly twirled around in her petticoats, looking about as happy as Rae had ever seen her, “that was a very good call with the dress shop.”
Devon rolled his eyes with a grin as he glanced down at the paper, anxious as ever to get back home. “All right, so I know it’s the middle of the day, but there are seven of us and this guy doesn’t know we’re coming. I say we go there right now—take him by surprise.”
The others agreed with this idea wholeheartedly. Half because they were desperate to get back to their own time. Half because they were in desperate need of coffee.
“I think it’s nearby,” Rae said brightly, glancing up at the nearest street sign as she tried to place where they were. “With any luck, this guy can tell me what the heck’s going on and we can be back home before nightfall.” A surge of excitement followed the words, and she gave Gabriel a playful shove. “Who knows—maybe we can even make it in time to see the ballet.”
After all this time, they should have known it wouldn’t be so easy.
No sooner had she spoken than a booming voice shook the air. Freezing them in their tracks and ending their brilliant plan with just five simple words.
“Actually, you’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter 6
How they failed to hear him coming, Rae would never know. The man weighed roughly as much as a young killer whale, and looked just as out of place on the streets of London.
But there he stood nonetheless. The giant from the race track. Standing directly in their path.
Of all the times not to have our powers. Her new shoes slipped on the slick cobblestones and she gritted her teeth. Of all the times to be wearing tights...
“Well, top of the morning!” the giant called, clearly enjoying himself. “And what might we be up to this fine London morning?”
Usually, it took quite a bit to make the friends deviate from a plan. That feeling of perpetual invincibility wasn’t limited to just Rae alone, and it was a rare fool who would attempt to steer them off course. An attempt that would never be made a second time.
But this man wasn’t like the rest.
To start, Rae sincerely doubted that he technically was a ‘man.’ His unfathomable size implied something not entirely human. Then there was the fact that he’d technically beaten them once before. Not to mention the fact that none of them was in a position to use their powers.
“Just go around,” Angel muttered, expertly scanning for the best exits while keeping a wary eye on the threat at the same time. “Back up the alley.”
This alone was telling.
In their own time, anyone who dared lay a hand on Julian was a walking fatality. On the rare occasion that someone was able to get the drop on him it would only be a matter of time before his terrifying wife showed up, exacting her personal brand of vengeance. An injury like the one he’d sustained demanded a blood payment, and Angel Decker had not been programmed to forgive easily.
But with the eyes of seventeenth-century London upon them, her hands were tied.
As if the city itself heard her words a caravan of wagons loaded with feed and hay began rambling up the street, blocking the way they’d just come. At the same time the giant took a step forward, eyes twinkling as he looked at each of them in turn. Taking his time. Making them sweat.
When he finished, he flashed Julian a cheerful smile. “I see you woke up.”
At this point, Julian clearly wished he hadn’t. One hand drifted to the back of his head, like he could still feel the impact of the devastating blow, and a belated shudder ran through his body.
He took an instinctual step back, and the man chuckled.
“Bet you’re feeling it, though.”
This time, witnesses or not, the taunt was too much for Angel to bear. She sprang forward with a feral cry, looking like a mistress of hell, only to be caught by her brother. And her husband.
“Let it go,” Gabriel muttered, his eyes never leaving the man. He was as protective of Julian as anyone, arguably more so, but he was smart enough to know when he didn’t have the winning hand.
And, although they all tended to forget, Julian hardly needed protection.
“Take it easy, love.” His words were gentle, despite his inescapable grip on her arm. “Not in front of all these people. Not here.”
It didn’t matter what situation they found themselves in. Whether they were racing through the Bolivian jungle, scaling the Empire State Building, or simply putting their daughter to bed. He never raised his voice with her. Never spoke with anything except the most tender kind of love.
It was one of the things Rae loved most about him. Although, in this particular situation, a little force seemed required. Fortunately, Angel had her older brother for that.
Gabriel yanked her back to his side, rough but somehow delicate at the same time. Holding her in such a way that she didn’t have a prayer of getting loose.
For his part, the giant took in every detail with great interest. Eyes flickering over the savage little waif with a curious smile. Wondering why she thought she stood a chance.
“An interesting assortment,” he mused, almost to himself. Then his eyes fell on their new wardrobe and he let out a booming laugh. “And you found yourselves some clothes!” His beady eyes twinkled with amusement. “Much better. I almost didn’t recognize—”
“What do you want?” Devon asked quietly, unwilling to play games.
They had trespassed on the man’s turf, and they had been punished for it. As far as he was concerned, the score was settled. There was nothing left to say.
But the giant seemed to disagree.
“What’s this?” His lopsided smile stretched even wider, making him seem all the more ghoulish in the delicate morning light. “No big hello? Not happy to see me?”
A muscle twitched in the back of Devon’s jaw, but he betrayed no other emotion. He simply repeated the question. Eyes locked with terrifying intensity on the man’s face. “What do you want?”
This man had hurt his friend. Threatened his wife. Taken his money. And ruined his day at the races. All within the space of a few minutes. But the worst part?
There was nothing Devon could do.
On any other day, he could have beaten the man senseless. On any other day, the tedious back-and-forth would have ended in blood. It would have been easy. It would have been fun.
But not today.
Today, they were stranded in a strange time. Today, the Privy Council wasn’t waiting in the wings to clean up any loose ends they might leave behind. Today, they could not risk exposure.
It also didn’t help that the man was built like a cyclops.
More like the man who killed and ate the cyclops...
The giant’s eyes twinkled once more, but he seemed to sense the game had come to an end.
“We never got to finish the conversation we were having.” The smile vanished and he was suddenly all business. “You kids ran off before you could answer my questions. Mainly, how the one with the cracked skull was able to look at those horses and predict which one was going to win.”
The friends stiffened at the same time, but gave nothing away.
It wasn’t the first time they’d been accused of such a thing. Though such confrontations were as terrifying as they were rare. You couldn’t go traipsing around the globe for the better part of a decade, fighting off supernatural evils, without getting caught every now and again.
For Rae, it had been in a card house outside Istanbul. She’d been invisible, hiding in the closet, and had about fainted as the world’s most inconvenient sneeze had given away her position. Gabriel had been spotted vengefully melting a parking meter he swore had stolen his money. Julian had been caught at a baseball game, ducking before everyone else did as a
bucket of popcorn rained down in the stands. Devon had been caught twice. Once in Morocco, scaling the wall of a security company, and again in Spain, lifting aside a car to give himself more room to park.
Each was as traumatic as the next. But by far, the most memorable time had been when Molly had been seen in broad daylight, shooting a bolt of lightning from her hands.
She and Julian had been at a college campus in Georgia, tracking down a shape-shifter who’d been impersonating a member of the faculty. They’d heard a gasp followed by a sudden splash, and turned around in time to see a wide-eyed sophomore standing in the remains of her Frappuccino.
Unable to dissuade her on the spot, they’d taken her to a nearby bar and bought her drink after drink until she could no longer remember what she saw. At least, that was the plan. When it didn’t work, Julian eventually hit her over the back of the head and they left her in a park. To wake up the next morning with the world’s worst hangover, having had the strangest dream.
Exposure was the inked community’s number one priority, but to a certain extent it was also inevitable. In most cases, it was best to simply deny. Devon prepared to do exactly that.
“I have no idea what you’re—”
“Every time.”
There wasn’t a flicker of doubt in the man’s voice. Not a trace of hesitation. He was absolutely, unequivocally certain. The game was already up. He knew exactly what he saw.
“He predicted which horse was going to win... every time.”
Devon shot a quick glance over his shoulder, and Julian came to stand by his side. He stared at the man for a moment before proceeding with the only option available. He proceeded to lie. “I grew up on race tracks,” he said quietly. “Not that I owe you any explanation. It’s easy to guess when you know what you’re looking for.”
“You didn’t guess,” the man interrupted steadily. “You knew for sure. Over a dozen races, but you knew for sure. And I want to know how.”