Stealing Time: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel

by Gael, Christine

  I moved toward her and then knelt, nauseous by the realization of what I had to do, as compassion for her devastating loss mixed with hatred to form a bitter brew in my belly.

  With a heavy heart, I formed a ball of magic in my hand, and pressed it to her clammy forehead as she thrashed, ready to end it quickly.

  But Connie was faster. She leapt forward, scissors in hand, and sliced Verbena’s throat with the glinting blade. Blood pulsed to the floor as I rolled back onto my heels and watched the light in her eyes fade.

  And, just like that, the most powerful witch who’d ever lived passed back into the afterlife that she never should’ve escaped. The magical chains around her faded and then disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a corpse.

  “No need for her blood on your hands, child,” Connie said, her expression strained as she tucked the scissors into the waistband of her skirt and unfastened the leather straps around Verbena’s motionless legs.

  The building let out an unearthly squeal and lurched, sending parts of the ceiling and walls raining down.

  “We’re out of time,” Zoe said, bending at the waist to scoop up the amulet with two fingers, holding it away from her body like it was made of poison. “Get them out now!”

  Patrick half dragged, half-carried Mee-maw and Trudy toward the exit as I hung back to help Connie stand.

  “Come on,” I urged, as Zoe slipped the amulet in her pocket.

  The ground began to shimmy as the three of us made a mad dash toward the open door, stepping through moments before the building’s outer walls finally gave and the building toppled.

  It seemed like the prophecy might be wrong, after all. We’d made it. All seven of--

  “Noooo!”

  My blood went cold at the sound of Mee-maw’s anguished cry. I saw three figures up ahead of me, but then they were gone as the world went topsy-turvy. Once, twice, three times. I was in a recurring nightmare as Mee-maw’s time magic sent me backward, over and over again.

  “What’s happening?” I bellowed, my heart thumping out of my chest as I fought a few feet forward, only to be sent hurtling back again, further as I watched as Zoe tucked the amulet in her pocket.

  I didn’t wait for them this time as I sprinted toward the door, knowing they would make it out safe and desperate to find out what had happened outside.

  I knew it was bad when I again heard Mee-maw’s broken sobs.

  “No, God, please no!”

  Patrick grunted, trying to lift a massive chunk of cement that had landed a few yards from the van, as Mee-maw wept beside it, on her knees.

  And I could see all of this so clearly, despite the inky darkness, because the back door of the van was open and the interior light was on.

  But there was no one inside.

  Lizzie.

  I dropped beside my grandmother like I’d been shot by an unseen gunman, reaching for the few wisps of magic I had left as I tried to force the rubble aside, but it was no use. I couldn’t lift them and, even if I could, no one could survive something so heavy falling on top of them.

  The same scene replayed over and over as Mee-maw’s magic activated again and again.

  “Further! We need to go back further!” I wept.

  Trudy sobbed along with me, shaking her head. “I don’t think she can go back far enough to--”

  “I can and I will,” Mee-maw cut in angrily. She grunted, her skin beginning to glow as she gathered her power again. Her eyes fixed on the rubble as she held the pocket watch out. Her face turned crimson as she swayed and strained.

  “Be careful,” I warned, but the words were no more than a whisper as my ears began to ring and my head spun. Time itself seemed to lurch and come to a crashing halt. Then, I was staring around, disoriented as I again searched for the pile of rubble, this time to no avail. Had she brought us back so far that—No, I realized with a start as I caught sight of Mee-maw’s kneeling form. We hadn’t been transported back at all. The rubble, however, had.

  My heart surged as I saw Lizzie standing just a few yards in front of me, looking dazed and confused.

  “Move!” I shouted as I dashed forward, grabbing her and pulling her toward me just as the wall shook and broke, releasing the two-ton chunk of rubble that’d crushed her a dozen times over.

  I held her close as the rest of the building crumbled, knowing it would be over soon.

  When the thundering noise finally ceased, she pulled away, blinking in shock. “What’s happening? How’d you get here? Nobody was there one second and then--”

  “We’ll explain later. Right now, we’ve got to get out of here,” I said, trying not to let her see me fall completely apart, but barely keeping it together.

  “Mee-maw!”

  I followed the sound of Zoe’s voice to find our grandmother in a heap on the ground, her breathing labored.

  “We’re here, Mee-maw. We’ve got you,” I whispered as I laid my hand on her wrinkled forehead.

  Zoe’s whispered pleas grew softer as she tried to force some magic from her spent hands, but I knew it as surely as I knew my own name.

  Mee-maw wasn’t going to survive. And this time, there would be no changing prediction…no mulligan to fix it.

  “Where is she? Where’s our girl?” she managed, clutching weakly at my wrist as she tried to lift her head.

  Grief whittled a crack in my heart as I called softly to a weeping Lizzie. She rushed closer and then knelt beside us.

  “Mee-maw? I’m here,” she whispered, taking her great-grandmother’s hand.

  How could this be happening? We were right there. So close.

  “There she is,” Mee-maw said, reaching out to touch Lizzie’s pale cheek. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips tipped into a peaceful smile. “There she is.”

  After one, last breath, her sturdy little body shook and stilled.

  And Mee-maw was gone.

  Chapter 24

  “Can someone grab the cranberry sauce from the fridge?” Zoe called, sounding a little harried as she scooted past and set a turkey the size of a pterodactyl in the center of the dining room table, next to the spiral ham and tray of lasagna.

  “Got it,” Lizzie called, setting down the bottle of wine she’d been using to refill glasses as she rose from the table.

  “Is that everything?” I asked, glancing at the feast before us. I sure hoped so, because the table was practically groaning from the weight of it all.

  “Trudy said the apple butter goes next to the rolls,” Ethan said as he came in from the kitchen, a man on a mission. He set the decorative butter dish beside the heaping basket of rolls and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Glad I could do my part,” he added with a wink.

  A few minutes later, we all gathered around the table to eat. As Patrick sat beside me, I couldn’t help but glance his way as I tried to recall what life had been like before. Before Patrick and Maude. Before Trudy, and Connie.

  Before magic.

  I’d been lucky. I shot a quick look at Jack, who argued playfully with Lizzie over who was going to get the biggest turkey leg. My kids had struggled with the divorce, but they were good. And I’d had family who loved and supported me. But I’d always known something was missing. A hole in my life that I couldn’t seem to fill.

  Now, as I looked around at all the people I loved in one room, my eyes stung with unshed tears. Fat snowflakes drifted past the window as Christmas music played in the background. A candle flickered from the center of the table, casting the meal in a warm, cheery light…

  This was as close to perfect as it got.

  “I’m not gonna lie. That looks good,” Mee-maw cackled. “Kind of cruel for you guys to plop us in the middle of the table like this so we have to watch you all chow down, though.”

  My mother’s face shimmered into view.

  “Don’t listen to her, Cricket. We have no earthly wants here and it gives us nothing but pleasure to see you all enjoy your meal and each other’s company,” she said, a smile in her vo
ice.

  This was the third time I’d gotten to see her using the candle since the final showdown with Verbena a couple months before, but I still had to pinch myself sometimes to believe it. Mee-maw, who had passed on so recently, had been even easier to contact and hold a connection with for longer visits. Still, we needed to be careful not to use the candle’s energy all at once. Its power was finite and we had no idea how many visits we would have, if they even decided to stick around.

  Apparently, the deceased could choose to stay between the land of the living and the land of the dead for centuries, if they wished. They only moved on when they felt they were ready to fully transition. After one more emotional visit with Patrick shortly after our battle with Verbena, Lydia Byrne had chosen to do exactly that, finally at peace with her legacy and settled in the knowledge that her son was safe and happy.

  I had no idea when Mee-maw or my mother would be drawn to eternal rest. It could be tomorrow, or a year from now. We had talked through so many things during our visits. I’d told my mother about the birth of my children, and showed her countless pictures. She’d gotten to meet them and see how much they looked like her and my father. We’d gotten to talk about Verbena, and how my mother’s prediction had been her Achille’s heel. She’d told me how Maude had foreseen Verbena’s defeat at the hands of the Crow’s Feet Coven clairvoyant. Ironically, she’d thought that meant my mother, and killing her would be her salvation.

  She’d thought wrong.

  Rather than focus on any of that, though, we’d vowed to stop talking about the past, and enjoy the miracle of every single moment we had together. And we savored the knowledge that we would all be together again someday.

  For now, we were content.

  “Tell Dad we made his stuffing, and he had it right. It was the sage that we’d been forgetting,” I said, gesturing to the serving tray. “Makes all the difference. And I actually wrote the recipe down so that Lizzie and Jack can make it someday, too.”

  My mother grinned and nodded. “We’ll tell him and Grandpa both. They’ll be proud you all finally got it right.”

  A little twinge of sadness washed over me, but it was bittersweet. Many of our loved ones that had passed were out of our reach. Still, the connection Mee-maw and my mom provided had allowed us to say things to them that we wished we’d said when they were alive. It was a priceless gift that reminded me, yet again, not to wait. To say those things to the living, when we felt them, because who knew if we’d ever have another chance?

  “I just need to say…I love you all so much,” I declared loudly.

  Zoe groaned and picked up her wineglass. “Yeah, yeah, same. But when are you going to stop being so sappy? I swear, you’re like a drunk frat girl in the bathroom at a bar. ‘Like, for real…You guys are my best friends!’” she teasingly slurred.

  The table burst into laughter and Patrick leaned closer to grab my hand.

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s just mad the Sheriff had to work tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Trudy added with a chuckle. “Zoe and Sheriff Webber, up in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes--”

  “You can stop right there,” Zoe cut in quickly. “I have no intention of falling in love, and I will never get married again. Between my business, and my coven, and the work we have ahead of us, I don’t have time for a man…” She paused and cocked her head. “Well, I have some time, I guess,” she added with a saucy wink as she held her wineglass aloft. “But the rest of my time is my own. So here’s to the single life, the married life, or whatever life you choose. May the next year be one of countless blessings for us all.”

  We all raised our glasses.

  “Hear, hear!”

  I took a drink of the full-bodied Chianti and nodded with satisfaction. As terrible as it had been—and it had been next-level terrible—when all was said and done, it had turned out to be a pretty amazing year.

  After the factory had essentially toppled to the ground, we’d been sure the police would be all over us, trying to figure out what the hell had happened that night. Instead of facing what was likely too terrifying to contemplate, they’d opted to wash their hands of the whole affair. Sheriff Webber had accepted our version of the events, and had placed the blame for all that had happened squarely on Verbena, who was painted as the true cult leader behind the Organization. Because she’d been killed in self-defense, no charges were filed. As for Mee-maw’s death, it had been ruled a heart attack, which was probably accurate.

  Even Patrick had been let off the hook for his earlier involvement after a grand jury determined that there wasn’t enough evidence to merit a trial. His exoneration had allowed us to pay Ethan back without having to resort to using the jewelry box, and we were all happy to restart our lives again with a clean slate.

  Of course, there were still questions and an air of mystery about it all, and about Rocky Knoll in general. How had the factory stood strong for all those years, only to have the foundation give so suddenly? What about all those reports of strange lights in the area and loud, unexplained noises that night?

  Questions like those and more ensured that some of the more dogged members of the press stuck around town, poking their noses where they didn’t belong. And, of course, we still had our share of friendly and not-so-friendly witch wanna-be’s and witch haters following us. Still, after dealing with Verbena, it all seemed like child’s play. Plus, all the intrigue had Rocky Knoll’s tourism dollars up by three hundred percent. Zoe’s bakery had to hire two more employees just to keep up with all the orders, and I’d purchased a stake in the shop, making me part owner.

  As for my personal life, things were humming along pretty well there, too. While Greg and I weren’t exactly friends, we’d come to a place of peace and acceptance. We’d managed to split the insurance money from the house without any issues, and I’d been ready to buy a place of my own when Zoe suggested I move in with her. With Phil out of the picture completely, and their divorce soon to be finalized, it had seemed like a practical move. I was worried we would cramp each other’s style. My concerns had been for nothing, though. I’d moved in with Zoe the day Aunt Astrid had sold Mee-maw’s house a few weeks back, and so far, so good. Patrick spent the night more often than not, and maybe eventually we would move in together, but I was exactly where I was supposed to be right now.

  The truth of the matter was, Zoe and I needed each other. She talked a tough game, but burying Mee-maw had been a gutting ordeal for us both, and we still had a lot of tough days. As much as the candlelight visits had been a lifesaver, there was still a gaping hole in our lives without her.

  And a gaping hole in our coven.

  I met Connie’s laser-like gaze from across the table, and she inclined her head.

  “Before we dig in, there’s something else…” I said, setting down my glass. “Mee-maw?”

  My mother’s face faded from view and Mee-maw’s loomed larger by the flickering light.

  “Trudy, can you run and grab the gift beneath the Christmas tree with the bright, red bow on it?” she instructed.

  Trudy popped off a jaunty salute and stood to do the Warden’s bidding.

  She came back a moment later, a confused frown furrowing her brow. “It has my name on it…”

  “It does,” Mee-maw said with a rusty chuckle. “So I guess that means it’s for you, and you should open it.”

  Trudy lowered herself to her chair and set the small package on the table. She unwrapped it carefully, murmuring under her breath about saving the lovely paper as Zoe and I shot each other an impatient look.

  When a small, white box was finally revealed, she stared at it for a long moment before tugging the top off.

  Her mouth dropped open as the room went dead silent.

  “What…is this?”

  “What’s it look like, kiddo?” Mee-maw said. “It’s my pocket watch. And I want you to have it.”

  Trudy lifted it from the box with a trembling hand and it glinted in
the candlelight.

  “But...Why me?” she whispered. “Surely, your granddaughters would want this to remember you by and to pass on to their children as an heirloom.”

  “Heirloom?” Mee-maw snorted. “That’s no heirloom, toots. That’s powerful magic. Connie?”

  Connie leaned across the table and touched Trudy’s hand.

  “Dorothea and I spoke at length when we were all preparing to head to the factory and take on Verbena. Based on Cricket’s prediction, we both had a sense she might not make it out. Dorothea expressed to me very clearly that she wanted her legacy to pass to someone deserving. She chose you. For your bravery. For your heart. For your love of magic. For your skills as a researcher, and your commitment to justice. We began the process of a separating spell then, that would only be completed when she entered the afterlife. We decided it would be best to give everyone a chance to grieve before springing this on you. But it’s time now. The coven needs to be whole again.”

  Ethan rubbed her back in gentle circles as tears slipped down Trudy’s cheeks.

  “So you’re telling me I can use its magic? The pocket watch is mine?”

  “Until you reach the end of your life and pass it on to the next generation of the coven, yes,” Connie said.

  “To Lizzie?” she asked softly.

  “We won’t know until we know,” I said, shrugging.

  “And honestly, I think I’m good on the whole magic thing for the next thirty years, anyway,” Lizzie added with a grin.

  “Well?” Zoe said, her eyes suspiciously glassy for someone so tough. “Do you accept, Trudy? Will you be part of the Crow’s Feet Coven? Will you vow to help us find the rightful owners of our collection of magical items, and locate the others the Organization may have hidden? Will you help us protect our sisters from persecution, and stop anyone who threatens their safety?”

  “I will,” she said solemnly, her expression a mix of joy and grim determination. “I will!”

  We all clapped and cheered at Ethan peppered her face with kisses.

  Trudy was truly one of us, now. And it felt exactly right.