Stealing Time: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel

by Gael, Christine

  Zoe's snort from her perch on the stool across from me earned her a scowl before Mee-maw continued.

  "As I was saying, I'm not usually one to pass judgment, but clearly you’re in no shape for a surprise showdown with Verbena. You're not fully recovered physically and your mind is preoccupied worrying about your boyfriend and the fact that my magic is being stubborn about coming in. It seemed prudent to double down on Zoe's protective potions and give ourselves a little more cover, if you will."

  I blinked and peered at her over my mug in surprise. "So...you're saying you did that on purpose?"

  "Course I did. Got tongues wagging and all those cameras back over here, didn't it?" she asked, shooting me a broad wink.

  "I guess it did," I conceded, setting down my mug and reaching for the plate of muffins Zoe had set between us.

  "Pretty wily move there, Mee-maw," Zoe said, grinning.

  "I'll say. I slept like a baby last night until the phone started ringing."

  I wished I could say the same. Instead, I'd had dreams about hanging, woken up in a cold sweat, and then finally fallen back asleep only to dream about burning.

  If only Patrick had been here. He was good at keeping the demons at bay...

  I made a mental note to call Dean Garibaldi to ask if I might be able to get in to visit. Seeing him with my own two eyes and making sure he was safe would go a long way toward soothing my worries.

  "Me and Zoe got a new idea for getting my magic moving. Want to help?" Mee-maw asked.

  "Sure. Let me finish my coffee, take a shower, and I'm in."

  “Okay,” Mee-maw said, giving me the stink eye, “but make it snappy.”

  “I will not have my shower timed by you today, Warden. This is Zoe’s house, not yours, and I will leave her five bucks to cover the extra water. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get glitter off a body?”

  An hour later, I found that I still hadn’t managed that feat completely, but a little bedazzlement was the least of my concerns as I stared at Mee-maw blankly, once again questioning my life choices.

  "So, just to clarify one more time...Why does the apple have to be on my head again?" I said, straightening my safety glasses carefully so as not to dislodge the aforementioned Granny Smith. "Couldn't we, say, just put it on top of that chair or something?"

  Mee-maw rolled her eyes and waved me off as she gestured for Zoe to take aim.

  "Don't be ridiculous. What do I care if Zoe misses and shoots the chair instead of the apple? The point is to trigger my fight or flight instinct. Like how your powers really came out that day at the cemetery and you made those tornadoes happen. You didn't know you could do it, but, when your loved ones were threatened, it just...erupted out of you!"

  “Why can’t I do the shooting?”

  Zoe scoffed and shook the gun pointedly. “Because it’s my paintball gun, and I’m a better shot.”

  “This is true,” Mee-maw said as she pushed up her sleeves to bare her wrinkled, sun-spotted forearms. "Now stop being a whiner, Cricket, and let me focus."

  I blew out a sigh and turned my attention to a gleeful-looking Zoe, who pointed a paintball gun at me from the other side of the basement.

  "Pretty sure my therapist would say this is a bad idea, what with me just having gotten shot twice for real, and all..." I tried again.

  But Mee-maw wasn't biting.

  "I'm not telling her to come at you with a torture necklace or something. Besides, what's that saying about the hair of the dog that bit ya?"

  "Pretty sure that refers to Scotch, but whatever. Let's get this over with."

  "Okay. Zoe, start yelling at her and stuff. You know, to get the mood right."

  "Sure thing," Zoe replied, popping off a snappy salute. "Put your hands up or I'm going blow your stupid head off!"

  "Okay, okay, I--"

  Thwap.

  To Zoe's credit, it was a great shot. She only missed by a few inches as the paintball drilled me right between the eyes. The apple fell to the ground with a thud as I rubbed at my sticky, stinging forehead.

  "Well, shit," I faintly heard Mee-maw mutter through the ringing in my ears. "That was real fast, Zoe. What are you, Quickdraw McGraw or something?"

  My head was beginning to ache and I blew out a sigh. "Uh, okay, so if we're done here, I'm going to take these glasses off and hit the shower again--"

  "Well, wait a second! I didn't even have a chance to try and freeze time there," Mee-maw said. "I shouldn't be penalized because Doc Holliday over here couldn't cool it for a second while I got my mojo together. Come on, Cricket. I really think we're onto something here. I can already feel my protective juices flowing."

  "Or it could just be all the bran in that muffin you ate for breakfast," I said, yanking the now-blue paint-splattered glasses off my head and backing my way toward the basement stairs. "Either way, you two are going to have to manage without me. I've got to give Patrick's lawyer a call anyway. Just shout if either of you need medical attention."

  I was halfway up the stairs when my cell phone jangled.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Cricket? This is Dean Garibaldi.”

  Speak of the devil.

  “I wanted to let you know that we've entered our not guilty plea and just completed Patrick's bail hearing."

  He’d told us that bail hearings were usually held within 72 hours of an arrest, but this was even faster than I’d hoped. "And?" I asked, slowing to a stop, breath suspended.

  "They're granting him bail. He can leave as soon as it's posted."

  I pumped my fist in relief. "Excellent! How much do we need?"

  There was a long pause that I knew foreshadowed bad news, and my relief drained away in a rush.

  "A hundred thousand."

  "Dollars?" I gasped.

  Of course dollars, you fool. This wasn't the Flintstones where we could pay in clams.

  "W-why so much?" I asked, forcing my feet to keep walking.

  "Patrick has dual citizenship here and in Ireland. He has no strong, long-term community connections. That, and in light of the nature of the crimes and his international connections, they're saying he's a flight risk. We can go through a bail bondsman, but the fee for that would be ten percent of the total bail amount, or ten grand, up front. It would also mean he'd have to stay in custody while all the paperwork was completed, which takes longer going into the weekend. You let me know how you want to handle it, and I'll get right on it."

  How to handle it, indeed.

  I swiped at a glob of paint dripping down the side of my face as my mind raced.

  Zoe had some money in the bakery's business account, but nowhere near enough. She'd been closed more than she'd been open since this whole mess started, and before that, she'd been putting most of her profits right back into the business to upgrade her equipment and expand anyway. Mee-maw had the house, but, as frugal as she was, she'd put most of her money into bonds and IRAs. She had little in the way of liquid cash. With all my own money tied up in a house that had been burned to the ground, I was no help, either.

  Barring us getting our hands on the magical jewelry box or doing something illegal and immoral, there was only one place to go for help with that kind of cash.

  * * *

  "Dollars?" Trudy squeaked, shooting a glance at a pensive-looking Ethan.

  "Yes," I confirmed. "We would go through a bail bondsman, but apparently, going into the weekend makes it tricky. We need to get Patrick out now."

  It was a huge ask.

  Huge.

  Especially since I’d already used our friendship and his affection for me in a multitude of ways to get Mee-maw’s pocket watch.

  But we were desperate, and I was pretty sure we were already on borrowed time. Verbena would show her face soon enough, and we needed to be together when she did. Patrick’s role was integral in our coven growing strong enough to defeat her.

  He, and only he, could illuminate the way.

  I would just have to find a way to mak
e it right with Ethan and repay him for all he’d done for us.

  “Cricket, I don’t want to question your judgment, but surely he wasn’t arrested for nothing? Are you sure you aren’t looking at this through rose-colored glasses? Trudy told me all about the cult, and what they nearly did to you. If he had a hand in that…”

  “He didn’t.” I winced and nodded. “Well, okay, he did. At first, but--”

  “Just show him,” Zoe said softly.

  We’d talked about it as a last resort. Telling Ethan the whole truth. After all, he had no attachment to or responsibility for Patrick. But Ethan was a good man. And if throwing some cash at this problem could save innocent people from getting hurt or worse, and potentially save this town from unspeakable horrors?

  I had to believe he would do it. Especially since he’d get it back once Patrick’s court date arrived.

  “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” I said, rubbing my now-clammy hands together as I stood. “But we’re running out of time.”

  Ethan leaned back against the couch, looking both confused and wary as I lifted one finger and pointed it at the delicate bonsai tree that sat on the coffee table between us.

  I closed my eyes and the room went quiet.

  I thought of grey, ominous clouds. I thought of rain and wind. I thought of cold droplets dappling the green leaves of the bonsai.

  The sound of gasps all around me was eclipsed by the pitter-patter of raindrops.

  I let my eyes drift open, maintaining my focus as the others began to whisper.

  “I’ll never get tired of watching her,” Trudy murmured in awe.

  “She’s something,” Mee-maw agreed wistfully.

  Zoe chimed in next. “Not bad, cuz. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

  “What-what is happening?” Ethan demanded, his tone hoarse.

  I tore my gaze from the world’s tiniest rainstorm that consisted of three wispy clouds the size of drink coasters as they watered Ethan’s exotic little tree.

  A finger-sized bolt of lightning shot from the cloud and everyone drew back in surprise.

  I closed my hand into a fist and the micro-storm disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  “Someone start talking, pronto,” Ethan demanded, his cheeks a chalky white.

  Trudy, bless her heart, took point, reaching for Ethan’s hand. “It’s a long story, so Cricket is going to make you a drink while I tell it, all right?”

  He laced his fingers with hers and nodded quickly as Trudy gestured to the bar in the corner of the room.

  I made my way over and snagged a crystal decanter, along with five glasses, and set them on a tray as Trudy spoke in hushed tones.

  We were all four fingers of very old, very expensive Scotch in when she finally finished talking.

  Trudy had done a great job, explaining everything that had happened from the day I’d purchased Maude to Dean Garibaldi’s call earlier that morning. And, to Ethan’s credit, he hadn’t interrupted even once.

  He was quiet now, clearly processing all he’d heard. Every couple minutes or so, he’d reach out and touch the rain-kissed leaves of the bonsai tree and then pull away with a shake of his head.

  Zoe met my gaze after a solid fifteen minutes had passed, brows raised. I shrugged helplessly. We’d done all we could. The rest was in Ethan’s hands. If he said no, we’d just have to find another way.

  Please don’t let him say no…

  “And you’re sure this guy is a friend, not a foe?”

  I went to answer and realized he was talking to Trudy.

  She considered the question long and hard, and then nodded. “I am,” she said, her tone solemn. “In fact, I don’t think we can defeat Verbena without him.”

  The silence stretched out for so long, it felt like it was going to swallow me whole.

  “Okay,” Ethan said finally, shaking his head slowly as he stood. “Trudy is the smartest person I know, and if she says it’s the right call, I’ll do it.”

  I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him out of sheer gratitude, but Trudy was already on the job. I watched, smiling as Ethan circled his arms around her waist and held on tight while she peppered his face with smooches.

  When they pulled apart, he had a determined smile on his face.

  “Let’s get your friend out of jail, and take this Verbena witch down.”

  Chapter 7

  “Keep back,” Sheriff Webber said, waving away journalists and reporters with a dismissive hand as he ushered Mee-maw and I inside. “Sorry you ladies have to go through all that. Feel free to let us know if they take things too far,” he said, shaking his head as he closed the door behind us.

  “They’re a pain but they haven’t been too bad,” I replied as we stepped into the worn-down police station. We’d been followed all the way here and, while they were definitely annoying, Mee-maw had been right. Their presence actually made the trip feel a bit safer by providing loads of witnesses to discourage Verbena, or anyone else from the Organization that might be lurking around, from taking direct action against us.

  “Zoe couldn’t make it?” the Sheriff asked, far less casually than he’d probably intended.

  “She was tied up, unfortunately,” I said, making a mental note to tell her that the handsome Sheriff had asked about her. He seemed to have a real soft spot for her, and she had told me more than once he was easy on the eyes.

  “Right this way,” he said, waving us to walk ahead of him, past an older receptionist tapping away on her keyboard, and then through the wooden door behind her.

  I stepped into the larger, open room, and was greeted by the down-facing, rusty head of Deputy Mitch Rasmusson as he seemed to peer down at his lap. From the get-go, he’d been skeptical of us, and I was sure he’d be less than thrilled to see Patrick getting out so quickly.

  “Mitch, the ladies are here for Mr. Byrne,” the Sheriff said as he pulled up behind me and Mee-maw.

  Rasmusson’s head shot up as he hastily shoved something into a worn, brown backpack and tossed it under his desk. It took me a few seconds to comprehend what I’d seen, but there was no mistake.

  A gem-encrusted jewelry box.

  Mee-maw stiffened beside me and jabbed me surreptitiously with her elbow, making it clear that she had seen it, too.

  “Sorry, Sheriff,” Mitch said with a tight smile. “Remembered it was my anniversary yesterday and had something overnighted from Amazon.”

  “Last minute is better than not at all, so good job, buddy,” Webber said with an easy grin. “Can you get Mr. Byrne’s release finalized in the system so I can send him home with these fine folks?”

  “I suppose I can, yes.” Judging by his flared nostrils and stiff posture, it was easy to discern that the Deputy wasn’t thrilled by this turn of events, which only had my Spidey senses pinging even more.

  I’d been excited to finally get Patrick back, but seeing Mitch’s “anniversary present” had definitely thrown me for a loop. I would bet my last dollar that I’d just seen the Organization’s magical jewelry box right in front of my very eyes. And, if Mitch’s behavior was any indicator, he had taken it from the scene of the crime on the sly and neglected to enter it into evidence. Did he look at it and steal it just for its obvious, free market value? It had to be worth tens of thousands just on its own, as elaborate and gem-studded as it was. Or, had he figured out the secret of the box?

  It wouldn’t have been all that hard. If Patrick was correct about its magic, and Mitch had put so much as a pencil eraser inside of it, it’d turn to gold or something at least as valuable.

  There was no way of knowing, and I just had to be grateful we’d walked in when we did. At least we knew they had it. We could make plans to retrieve it once we got Patrick home and settled.

  One problem at a time.

  “Can I see him?” I asked the Sheriff, dragging my attention away from a fidgeting Rasmusson.

  “Sure thing. We’ve got him right over here, in holding,” We
bber said, leading me toward another door to the room ahead of us.

  Inside sat an empty desk and an economical, uncomfortable-looking chair on one side of the room, and a single, large holding cell across from it that took up the majority of the space.

  Patrick’s dark head was bowed but lifted as we entered the room.

  His tight lips twitched as I walked in, and he rose from the bench he’d been sitting on. He took a quick glance at the clock on the wall and shot me a raised brow. “Certainly took your sweet time getting me, didn’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes, hoping I didn’t look as giddy as I felt at the sight of him, hale and hearty. “You’re lucky we came at all. I was ready to cut you loose altogether, but Mee-maw talked me out of it.”

  “Well, I’ll have to remember to thank her,” Patrick replied. His tone was teasing, but his gaze swept over me as if reassuring himself that I was in one piece.

  I had to admit, even after everything that had gone on the past couple of days, I felt fifty percent better just being in the same room as him. And, if my suspicions were correct, he felt the same.

  “We would’ve come sooner, but it took Ethan a while to get the funds together, and then we had to get everything handled at the bail clerk’s office.”

  “Ethan?”

  “I’ll explain later,” I said with a nod.

  “It seems like the ladies aren’t the only ones who think you’re innocent, Mr. Byrne. You’re very lucky to have all these fine people in your corner.” The Sheriff fiddled with a small key ring for a moment before unlocking the door and letting it swing open as Mee-maw toddled into the room. “I just need you to sign a few documents and you’ll be free to go.” He turned to us and added, “Would you two ladies like a cup of coffee or something while you wait?”

  “No thanks,” Mee-maw said, “the stuff does a number on my stomach and I’ve already got agita from the muffins Zoe made this morning.”

  “Coffee would be great.”

  “Come with me,” the Sheriff said, handing Patrick a pen and pointing to a stack of papers on the desk before gesturing for me to follow.