Stealing Time: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel

by Gael, Christine

  He opened the door to the room where Deputy Rasmusson had been working, and I immediately wished I’d passed on the coffee as an annoying giggle met my ears. I stopped in place, mentally preparing for my second conversation with Marilee Rasmusson in as many days.

  “Ms. Hawthorne? Everything alright?” Sheriff Webber asked, turning back to look at me.

  “Did you say Ms. Hawthorne?” Marilee said, stepping into view. Her face lit up into a warm smile as she saw me. “Good to see you out and about again!” she said, her voice patronizingly sympathetic, like she was talking to a small child. “I left a message on Zoe’s voicemail this morning when I saw the news, though I’m sure you were just too busy with all those reporters and such to get back to me.”

  I nodded, trying and, I’m sure, failing to keep my annoyance from showing. “Yeah, they’ve been hounding us non-stop.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she said, making a pouty face with her lips. “I meant what I said, you know. I’m here for you if you need it, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

  I held my tongue, despite knowing full well that anything I shared with her would spread faster than if I told the reporters that’d been following us. “Thanks,” I managed as Mee-maw ambled in behind me.

  “Dorothea, always nice to see you! So what brings you all to the station, anyway?” she asked.

  “We’re picking Patrick up,” I said, walking quickly after the Sheriff, who was walking quickly toward a coffee and tea station in the corner of the room, “he’s out on bail.”

  “Oh…interesting!” she said, gold hoop earrings shaking up and down as she nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, well, I won’t keep you, then. I was just here to pick up my hubby for lunch.”

  “I’m going to dip out for half an hour and grab a sandwich,” the Deputy said, pulling his jacket over his police uniform and beginning to walk toward Marilee with a smile.

  The Sheriff nodded. “Enjoy.”

  Marilee wiggled her fingers in a final goodbye. “Good to see you all. And Cricket, like I said, let me know if you need anything at all.”

  The Deputy spared a fleeting glance back at his desk before nodding. “Ladies.”

  “What an irritating woman,” Mee-maw muttered as they left earshot.

  The Sheriff chuckled heartily, pressing the button on the single-serve coffee maker in front of him, which was flanked on either side by containers filled with little white packets of sugar.

  “She can definitely be a lot to handle, but she’s good for a guy like Mitch, keeps him from getting too dark. He can be a little intense sometimes.” He pulled the paper cup away from the coffee machine and pulled open a miniature refrigerator a few feet away, to reveal a carton of half-and-half, placing it on the table next to the cup. “I’m going to go check on Patrick and make sure he doesn’t have any questions.”

  When he was out of earshot, I leaned close to Mee-maw as I poured cream into my coffee. “Did you see that…in Rasmusson’s bag?” I hissed.

  She nodded. “That was it. I remember seeing it now, out of the corner of my eye, but I was so enamored of the watch, I barely paid it any mind. It seems pretty shady that he didn’t put it back in the evidence locker or anything.”

  That’s what I’d been thinking. Maybe it was time to take Marilee up on her offer and try to get an invite into her house. Surely, Rasmusson wouldn’t leave it here overnight? If I could get Zoe to create a replicating spell or something, maybe we could make a switcheroo and Mitch would be none the wiser.

  I tore a sugar packet, pouring it into my cup and taking a sip.

  “This is about as awful as one would expect,” I said, turning to find Mee-maw bent in front of the Deputy’s desk. “What the hell are you--”

  I broke off and gasped as she held the glittering box aloft triumphantly before shoving it into her purse in a single deft motion.

  “Mee-maw,” I whispered, shaking my head vigorously, but it was too late. I could already hear two sets of footsteps from behind the door at my back.

  It swung open and the Sheriff re-entered the room with Patrick in tow. “Okay, that’s about it! We’re all set here. He’s free to go.”

  My jaw dropped as I tried to come up with some way to undo what Mee-maw had done. Surely, if Rasmusson came back from lunch to find the box missing, he’d know who took it. But as the Sheriff led our way out of the precinct, I had no choice but to follow.

  “No offense, but I hope I never have to come back here again, Sheriff,” Patrick said, cracking his neck. “That cell of yours could really use a new mattress.”

  And I could really use another glass of Ethan’s fancy Scotch, because if Rasmusson didn’t have it out for us before, he sure did now.

  The Crow’s Feet Coven had just made yet another enemy, and I was pretty sure we were all stocked up before that.

  Damn.

  * * *

  “What in the hell was that?” I demanded, pulling at my hair as we walked down the sidewalk. “Do you think he’s that stupid? He’s going to know it was us who took it and it’ll ruin all of our plans. How can we possibly expect to defeat Verbena if we end up in jail?”

  “Watch yourself, toots,” Mee-maw snapped back, in full Warden mode. “You may be all grown up now, but I still won’t be spoken to that way by my granddaughter.” She turned her nose up. “But I’ll explain why it wasn’t as stupid as you think once you’re ready to ask a bit more politely.”

  Patrick cocked his head, looking back and forth between us with confusion. “Someone care to fill me in?”

  “We saw Deputy Rasmusson fiddling with the jewelry box when we walked in and she stole it right out of his bag,” I said, clenching my fists in an attempt to control my anger. What’d started as a good day, as we secured Patrick’s release, had fast turned into a test of my self-control, first with Marilee and now with my grandmother.

  Patrick’s eyes widened, looking at Mee-maw. “No one else was in the office when it went missing.”

  “I’m not a complete dummy, you know,” Mee-maw said, rolling her eyes, but her face had softened considerably and I even caught a hint of a smile as she added, “I checked the room for cameras before I did it and I doubt the Deputy is going to come at us over this, even if he does suspect us. Let’s say what we’re thinking is right. He never entered the box into evidence because he wants it for himself. Who is he going to tell that we stole it? And if he knows that we know that he took it, he can’t very well ask us for it!”

  Her twisted logic wasn’t wrong, but…

  “What if we were misreading things? What if it was entered as evidence and he figured out how it worked, planned to use it, and then return it?”

  “Even still,” Mee-maw reasoned. “Seems like something he could face major disciplinary action for, messing with it and then leaving it out like that to get stolen. He’s not going to talk. Bet on it.”

  I felt my anger fade somewhat as I considered what she’d said. “I guess that makes sense,” I said, speaking slowly.

  “Of course it does,” Mee-maw said, beaming as she clapped me on the back. “Now let’s hurry home and make ourselves some new jewelry.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, still not totally convinced, but I felt some relief at the fact that we’d gotten the box out of the hands of Rasmusson. Something told me he was exactly the type of man that a power like that would corrupt. We all knew full well what men were capable of when faced with magic.

  Despite that sense of relief, a concern still niggled at me in the back of my mind. Something about the Deputy had always seemed off, and his actions had only solidified my general unease about him even further.

  There was one other explanation as to why the Deputy had been concealing the box, and it was far more concerning than the original. It would also explain why he was so invested in keeping Patrick out of the picture.

  Deputy Rasmusson was under the control of Verbena and the Organization.

  Only time would tell, but, until then, we couldn’t
trust the police and had to do everything we could to ensure that Patrick got his wish and never returned to that cell.

  Because next time? He might not get out alive.

  Chapter 8

  I groaned at the corny action movie and hunkered closer to Patrick on the love seat. Mee-maw and Zoe, who were positioned on the couch, had picked it out and seemed oblivious to its terribleness.

  The normalcy of it all was bliss. We’d spent the better part of our day working on our own magic and then trying to get Mee-maw’s magic moving. By the time we decided to call it quits, she’d been exhausted and blinking back tears of frustration, with the rest of us not far behind. We’d all decided to take an hour to watch mindless TV, eat popcorn, and pretend we were normal. After a good night’s sleep, we’d be back in the saddle again.

  Once Patrick and I had some alone time and I could broach the topic of the candle, of course…

  My stomach flopped and I swallowed hard as my cell phone buzzed. I picked it up from the coffee table and peered down at a text message from Trudy.

  Didn’t get any info on the candlestick from the web, but get this. I blew up the image you sent and saw some very faint writing on the base. Latin. Translation: A witch never truly dies. She is forever within reach if she chooses to be. Seems like Patrick was right, this is legit. But based on the inscription, guessing it doesn’t work for mortals.

  Three dots rolled by and then one more line of text.

  I’m so sorry, Crick.

  I shoved back my disappointment and shot a guilty glance toward my grandmother.

  “Get ‘em,” Mee-maw crowed as an epic car chase scene ensued on screen, oblivious to the tension around her.

  At least it seemed like Patrick would be able to contact his mother, as I’d hoped. I would deal with my disappointment and mourn the loss of my chance to talk to my parents once we got ourselves out of this mess.

  “I’m really happy you’re back,” I whispered to Patrick, feeling the sentiment with every fiber of my being as I leaned closer. I could tell, though, that he was starting to get tense. He was probably anticipating our little talk, same as I was.

  “Happy to be back,” Patrick replied softly, curling his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me.

  We stayed that way until the credits rolled and I let out a yawn.

  “Hope you two lovebirds have a good rest of the night,” Zoe said, flipping the television off. “Sticky Fingers over here has been dozing off for a while now, and I’m feeling pretty exhausted today from all the magic I used practicing my potions, so we’re headed to bed.” She cracked her back and shook Mee-maw gently a few times to wake her up.

  The older woman sprung forward with speed beyond her years, looking around frantically, and took a kung-fu stance.

  “Phew,” she said, relaxing as she realized who it was, “you scared me. I thought I was gonna have to karate chop you like Jason Statham.”

  “Time for bed, Mee-maw,” Zoe said, chuckling.

  She and Mee-maw headed off to bed, leaving Patrick and I alone for the first time since he’d gotten out of jail.

  He cleared his throat, staring down at me after a long moment of silence. “Cricket, I know I’ve already said it, but it needs saying one more time. I can’t even put it into words, how sorry I am for everything I did.” His jaw clenched as he looked away in shame.

  “I know that,” I replied with a shrug. “I was angry, at first. Really angry, and couldn’t imagine forgiving you. But the way things are now...what we’re up against and what’s at risk? It just puts things into perspective.” I cleared my throat and continued. “Your father admitted what he did to you and to your mother. You couldn’t have known. You’ve protected me, and proven yourself countless times since then. I not only forgive you...I also trust you.”

  Right or wrong, it was the truth.

  He paused for another long moment and let out a slow breath. “I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness, but I promise I will never again break your trust in me. These feelings don’t just apply to you, though. I keep thinking about the candle and what it’s supposed to be capable of,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I want to use it, but then...How can I face my mother after all I’ve done to help the very people who had her killed?”

  I said a silent prayer of thanks for the perfect segue. “I know it feels that way right now, and I can’t imagine how difficult that is for you. But...while you were gone, I received a message from Maude.”

  I filled Patrick in on the prediction, and he drew back in surprise.

  “Hell. That seems pretty clear to me, then. This isn’t a matter of my wants and feelings. This is something I need to do. For the good of the coven.”

  I pulled away and scooted to the edge of the cushion to meet his gaze head on.

  “I can’t make you do it, Patrick. But I do believe that is what Maude is trying to tell us. The decision is ultimately yours.” I didn’t tell him that if he opted not to use the candle, the responsibility of doing so would fall to me. His mother’s eternal rest would be disturbed, one way or another. All that remained to be seen was who did the honors.

  But I needn’t have worried, because a second later, Patrick tipped his head in a grim nod.

  “I’ll do it. The guilt is like an anvil around my neck, in any case. I need to look at this as a true blessing...an opportunity to tell her how sorry I am and how much I loved her.”

  I stood, holding out my hand, and he took it before rising.

  Ten minutes later, we stood facing one another in our shared guest room, fairly buzzing with nerves.

  “So how does it work?” Patrick asked, inspecting the squat, yellow candle, which looked small in his strong, masculine hands.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said ruefully as I took the box of matches from my pocket and held them out to him. “No two items have been alike, so far. I’ll say this much; The items we’ve used have been pretty straightforward. Maude has been the toughest to get working on command, but the cauldron and the necklace with the amulet have both responded well to intention. I would light the candle and think of the person you’re trying to contact.”

  He nodded, grabbing the matches from my hand before closing his eyes for a long moment. Then, with a shake of his head, he placed the candle back on the table and struck one of the matches against the side of the box, lighting it. A fear of magic had been deeply ingrained in him for decades. He’d been working through that fear, but he was clearly an emotional wreck. I could hardly imagine how difficult it’d be to face his mother after having spent years working for the very group that’d gotten her and her coven murdered.

  I wished I could take the burden off him, but he had it right. If we were correct in our reading of Maude’s prediction, this was something that had to happen, no matter how tough it was. Not just for the coming fight against Verbena, but also for Patrick’s peace of mind. How many people lived with regrets that they never got to voice to their loved ones who had passed?

  This was his chance to wipe the slate clean.

  I laid a supportive hand on his shoulder as he leaned in and touched the flickering flame to the blackened candlewick. It took a second to catch, but then, after sputtering for a moment, it burned a bright, clear orange.

  The room was so quiet, I could hear his heart beating.

  “Say her name, and picture her face, if you can,” I encouraged.

  A long beat of silence, and then he spoke.

  “Lydia Byrne,” he said in a husky voice, pulling back a few feet after setting the candle alight. “Mother.”

  Blood rushed to my ears and I swallowed hard. We’d seen a lot of magic between the time Maude had come into my life and now, but talking to the dead?

  This was next-level stuff.

  We both watched, staring at the flame and waiting. For what? I wasn’t sure. Was she going to jump out at some point, like “Boo!” or would she just be a disembodied voice in the air? Maybe she’d be a ghost in her a
ctual form, and we’d have to stand here and talk to a pile of bones and rotting flesh?

  The wall clock ticked in the background and I opened my mouth, ready to ask Patrick to try again. Before I could get the words out, though, they died on my lips as a ghostly face materialized in front of us. I couldn’t help but take a step back, shivering. Not from fear, I realized with a start, but just from the sheer emotion emanating from her.

  She was beautiful in the truest sense, a beacon of love and warmth. She had no arms to reach for him, no hands to cup his face, but the very space around us felt like an embrace, and tears instantly pricked my lids.

  “Ma?” Patrick gasped, surging forward and putting his hands out toward the apparition.

  “Patrick.” The soft, feminine voice with a faintly Scottish brogue seemed to echo gently all around us rather than coming from her cupid’s bow of a mouth. “I’d always hoped this moment would come.”

  “Ma, I… I’m so sorry. I was so stupid,” he murmured as he tore at his hair with one hand. “I betrayed you and your memory. I let my father convince me of something I should’ve known in my heart was a lie. I failed you.” His voice broke for a moment as he dropped to his knees beside the table.

  My heart shattered and part of me wanted to leave. This moment was between a mother and son. I had no business here. But even as the thought came to me, Patrick gripped my hand in his.

  He’d asked me to be here, and I’d support him the best I could.

  “You didn’t fail me, son,” she said with a gentle smile. “In fact, I owe you an apology. You were too young to understand back then, but I need you to know now that I only left home to protect you. I loved you deeply—both you and your father—but the Organization was onto my coven, and I couldn’t subject you to that type of danger. I know how much pain my leaving caused you, but I could live with us being apart so long as I knew you were safe. I’ve been watching, and I need you to know that I’m so proud of the man that you’ve become, even if it took a while for you to get here.”