“You hear them out,” Rob said, “and then send them back home, wherever home is.”
“What’re you gonna do?” John asked.
“A little research of my own,” Rob said. He extended a hand to Megan. “You want to help me?”
He wasn’t exactly sure why he offered, except that he didn’t want to leave her presence. Maybe that was enough.
“I guess,” she said. “So long as I can bring Kyle.”
“No,” Kyle said. “I want to stay with the Fates and Mr. Little.”
Megan looked at the boy with surprise. “We don’t know Mr. Little.”
“I do. He’s really nice. C’mon, Aunt Meg. You can tell that. Besides, the Fates’ll be here.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” she said, glancing at Rob.
“John can handle them,” Rob said to her, softly, knowing that her fears were more about the Fates now that he’d scared her with them.
“I know.” She bit a cuticle. The movement was clearly a nervous habit. “It’s just that Travers left Kyle in my charge…”
“I got to get back to let Fang out anyway,” Kyle said. “I don’t want to go on a mission.”
Rob started. He hadn’t realized that he had been thinking that word, but he had, deep down. He felt like he had a mission.
“Besides,” Kyle said. “Mr. Little thinks the two of you need time alone. He thinks you’re the best thing—”
“Kid!” John snapped. “Enough already.”
Megan glanced at her nephew, then glanced at John. She was obviously intrigued.
So was Rob.
“Why don’t you tell us what you think, Mr. Little?” Megan asked.
John looked trapped. Rob would have laughed if he hadn’t recognized the expression. John always had this look when he was afraid he’d offend someone.
John shook his head. “I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” Rob said, wondering if he wasn’t making a mistake. “Tell her what you think, Little John.”
Fifteen
Megan’s stomach clenched. Something in Rob’s tone told her that she might not like what John was going to say.
She looked at John, mostly so that she wouldn’t have to look at Rob. She could get lost in Rob’s eyes, forget where she was, forget what she was doing.
She couldn’t afford that at the moment. She was slow on the uptake, but she was beginning to realize that she had stumbled into something momentous, and she would have to act accordingly.
Kyle took her hand and squeezed it. The door kept banging against the wall. Those poor women, locked in there, unable to get out. They must be panicked.
Even if they did deserve that imprisonment, at least from Rob’s point of view.
John looked at Megan sideways, his expression sheepish. He was such a large man. She finally understood all the jokes that had filtered down through history; John Little was anything but.
Although he was a gentle giant. She had probably hurt his feelings by implying that Kyle couldn’t stay with him because she didn’t know him.
“I think, Miss,” John Little said to Megan, his tone oddly courtly, “that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Robin.”
Meg’s stomach clenched worse than it had a moment ago. How could she be the best thing? She’d only just met the man.
Then she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He had stiffened, his body posture so formal that it looked as if he might break if she touched him.
There was a shadow of the expression she had seen on his face in that old memory which he had played for her like a movie when they’d been in her condo. He had looked so shattered. She had never seen a man so shattered.
And the remnants of that emotion were with him still.
“I can’t be.” She made sure she was facing John Little instead of Rob. “I haven’t happened to him at all.”
John Little bowed slightly. “But you have, Miss. You’ve already seen his magic, and he’s taken care of you.”
There that phrase was again. She didn’t like it, but this time, she didn’t say anything.
“He doesn’t take care of just anyone, Miss.”
If he was Robin Hood—the real Robin Hood—didn’t that mean he took care of everyone? Or he had at one time?
Didn’t that mean she was just one of many?
She bit her lower lip, then started to chew it. The moment she tasted blood, she stopped.
Old habits. Why in the world were old habits coming up now?
“I’ll be okay, Aunt Meg,” Kyle said again. “It’s okay. We need to help the Fates.”
As if the Fates had heard him, the door that imprisoned them banged so hard that the entire wall shook.
“Magic’s fading,” John Little said to Rob.
Rob still had that expression. This couldn’t be easy for him, poor man. Especially not if those three women had deliberately destroyed his life.
If Kyle was right—and why would he be wrong?—then there was a lot at stake here. Megan wasn’t even sure she believed in true love. Friendship, passion, long-term companionship, and yes, love, but not true love, not the Hollywood variety, not the stuff legends were made of.
Although she had seen Rob’s devastated face. That love affair was part of a legend. An old, old legend. His love for a woman whom Megan had originally mistaken for his mother had been so powerful it had resounded through all of time.
And now he needed her? She didn’t believe it.
“Believe it, Aunt Meg,” Kyle whispered.
His round face was upturned toward her. He seemed so vulnerable. She was trusting the judgment of an eleven-year-old. A precocious, psychic one, but an eleven-year-old nonetheless.
“Aunt Meg…”
Rob wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t even looking at her. It was as if John’s words had frozen him.
Maybe he didn’t want to influence her decision.
AUNT MEG!!!!!!!!!!!
Kyle yelled at her so loudly that she stumbled backward and nearly hit the wall. She covered her ears with both hands. Her eyes watered.
She blinked at him, trying to catch her breath. A single tear ran down her face, but it wasn’t a tear of sadness.
It was a tear of pain.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Me.” Kyle straightened his shoulders. “The Fates taught me to do that. When I’m in trouble.”
“Do what?” Rob had lost that rigidity. He had moved toward her as if he were going to help her, but she raised a single hand, keeping him back.
“Children aren’t supposed to yell like that,” she said.
“He didn’t yell.” Rob glanced at John for confirmation.
John shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“It’s broadcasting,” Kyle said, obviously pleased with himself. “Remember? I told you. You were doing it this morning, only not so loud. And I aimed mine. Yours was just out there, kinda general.”
Aimed it? He made her ears ring, her eyes tear up, and her head ache with a single thought?
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Don’t do that again,” she said. Her tone was a little harsh.
Kyle grinned. “Unless I’m in trouble.”
“Unless you’re in trouble.” But she wasn’t even sure about then.
“So, see? It’s okay to leave me here with Mr. Little and the Fates. I can ask for help if I need it. And if you don’t come, I can do the same thing to Dad.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that,” Meg mumbled.
“He doesn’t like it any more than you do,” Kyle said, “but it works. Most of the time.”
Rob came to her side, and pulled her up. She had been crouching, and she hadn’t even realized it.
His touch was gentle. He smelled faintly of leather, even though he wasn’t wearing any.
“John has never hurt a child in his life,” Rob said. “And we won’t be gone too long, I promise. John has enough
magic to handle the Fates, and your nephew can get home in time to take care of his dog.”
“Fang! Dang!” Kyle glanced at his watch. “Aunt Meg, it’s nearly emergency time.”
She frowned at him. There would be more emergencies, and they were planned? How come no one told her about that?
“No, Aunt Meg. For Fang. If he makes too many messes, he’ll cost us extra money, and you know how Dad hates that.”
She did know, which was why she had been surprised about the suites in the first place.
She had no idea why the potential dog emergency convinced her more than all the other arguments had, but it did.
“All right,” she said. Then she took a deep breath, and did the responsible thing. “But I want you to dig another hole in my brain if something goes wrong, all right?”
Kyle wrinkled his nose. “Gross. I can’t do that. But I’ll broadcast at you, okay?”
That was what she had meant. She hadn’t expected him to take it literally. “Okay.”
“Good.” Rob nodded at her and at John. “Megan and I will do some preliminary work. John, you get those Fates out of here, and get the boy back to his dog before there’s a costly puddle. I’ll meet up with you when we’re done.”
Megan’s stomach had now tied itself into knots. “How long will we be gone?”
Rob shrugged. “I have no idea, but I’ll make sure it’s not as long as it seems.”
Sixteen
Rob mentally shook himself. He hadn’t meant to tell this woman that he’d make the time with him seem longer than it was, but that was what he said. What he’d meant was that he would use a bit of magic and move the two of them backward in time if he had to.
But her knowledge of magic was so limited, he wasn’t sure she’d understand the explanation even now.
Everyone in the reception area looked like they were emotionally drained. Even the reception area itself seemed out of sorts. The pictures on the wall were crooked, thanks to the Fates’ incredible effort to get themselves out of the office. The door looked battered, and the furniture seemed out of place, even though Rob didn’t think anyone had touched it.
Megan seemed the worst for wear. Her skin was paler than it had been before, and her eyelashes were wet. They stuck together, accenting her eyes even more than they had. Her lips were very red, because she’d been biting them nervously, and a tear streak showed him that the lovely red in her cheeks had no artificial component at all.
She’d achieved that much beauty without makeup.
The boy had clearly caused her physical pain with his “broadcast.” When they got back, Rob would teach him how to tone that down. Otherwise, if he wasn’t careful, he might do some actual damage someday.
The boy looked at him sharply. He’d clearly overheard that last thought.
“We’ll work on it,” Rob said.
The boy squared his shoulders. Rob was beginning to like him. The kid had courage. Rob hadn’t met too many moderns who did.
The door banged again, and this time the hinges squeaked. The bolts had started to work their way out of their sockets.
“You’d better go if you’re gonna go,” John said. “I think we’re going to release some Fates whether we want to or not.”
Rob took Megan’s hand. She looked terrified.
“Just hang on tight,” he said. “We’re only gonna ask a few questions, maybe figure out a few things. Then we’ll come back. All right?”
She took a deep breath and then nodded.
She had courage too, considering everything she’d been through in the past few hours. Some people, when they discovered the world had magic, went to bed for weeks and wouldn’t get up.
He needed to take care of this Fate problem quickly, for her sake as well as his own.
He made a small circle with his left hand and spelled them to the first person he could think of who would give him a straight answer—Zoe Sinclair.
It was a slower spatial shift than he usually performed, almost as if the magic stream couldn’t find Zoe for a moment.
Then he and Megan materialized in a walk-in closet as large as his thatched hut had been. Women’s clothes hung from every available post and bar, and Zoe stood in the middle of them, wearing only a black bra, see-through panties, and a large diamond ring on her left hand.
“What the hell?” Zoe snapped. “I thought we had a shield over this place.”
He’d learned how to go through magical shields centuries ago, but that explained why the spatial shift had been so slow.
Zoe shoved his chest. “Get out.”
Then she saw Megan hiding halfway behind him. Megan’s face was so red, it looked like her head was about to explode.
“What in the world is going on?” Zoe asked.
The door to the closet opened, and a tall, blond man stepped inside. He was wearing jeans slung low over his hips and nothing more.
Megan covered her eyes. “Travers, jeez.”
Travers. Her brother. The one that Zoe was going to marry. He clearly had magical power—Rob could feel it radiating off him—but of an unconventional kind.
“What are you doing here?” Travers snapped. Then he frowned at Rob. “And who are you?”
“You have clothes on, Travs?” Megan asked.
“Yes,” Travers said. “My bare chest isn’t that disgusting, sis.”
He tossed a robe at Zoe, who slipped it on. The robe was as see-through as the panties.
Megan peeked through her fingers. Rob had the sense she wasn’t hiding from her brother’s lack of clothing so much as she was trying to disappear from the entire situation.
“You didn’t tell me we were coming here,” she whispered to Rob.
“I told you we were going to find answers,” he said.
“But I could have told you not to come here,” Megan whispered.
“Because she was the one who said, ‘Travers, you and Zoe take your time, wink-wink.’” There was no warmth in Travers’ tone. “It was your idea to celebrate the marriage license, sis, and you have no right—”
“I don’t think Megan’s involved.” Zoe had her hands on her hips. She was an attractive woman, but a little too slim. And her clothes were a little too see-through. Rob wasn’t sure where to look.
He settled for Megan. Now, she was a beautiful woman with appropriate curves. Zoe was too bony, and always had been.
“Right, Rob?” Zoe asked.
He didn’t remember the question. He glanced at Travers, who looked nothing like his pretty sister, and tried to ignore the fury on the man’s face.
“You mind telling me who you are and what you’re doing here?” Travers asked. “It would be really nice to know sometime before the next millennium.”
“Um, sorry,” Rob said. He truly hadn’t expected this. He was almost as embarrassed as Megan. Maybe he was more embarrassed.
“He’s Robin Hood,” Zoe said, “and he’s here about the Fates, aren’t you, Rob?”
“Yes,” he said, wondering how she knew.
“The question is, how did your sister come to accompany him?” Zoe said.
“Kyle,” Travers said. “Kyle was behind it. Wasn’t he, Meg?”
“Well, no,” Megan said. “I mean, maybe. You see, the Fates needed a ride—”
“And they couldn’t take a cab?” Travers asked.
“Kyle said they couldn’t. They’d get lost.”
“You know they can’t, Travers,” Zoe said. “It’s not safe for them out in the real world.”
“Because someone might steal their magic, I know,” Travers said, but he didn’t sound very sympathetic.
“No,” Zoe said. “They wouldn’t know the rules of taxicabs.”
The rules of taxicabs. Rob looked at her. There were rules for taxicabs, weren’t there? And he’d learned them over the years as the taxicabs themselves had evolved.
But if the story were true—or at least if his understanding of the Fates’ last few months were true—then they wouldn’
t know all sorts of things, from taxicabs to slot machines to laptop computers.
Those three women were helpless in a variety of ways.
Part of him felt sympathy, and part of him wanted to rub his hands together with glee.
Travers sighed. “So you’re Robin Hood.”
Rob nodded.
“And you have my sister because…?”
“Because she offered to help,” he said, even though that wasn’t entirely true.
“Leaving my son with the most incompetent women in the world?” Travers asked a question, but it didn’t sound like a question. Something in his phrasing made it sound like a threat.
“And my friend John,” Rob said. “He can handle all of them.”
“John.” Travers didn’t sound satisfied.
“Little John,” Zoe said. “You know.”
“No,” Megan said from behind Rob. “He doesn’t know. He hates myths and legends. He prefers books on the history of math.”
Travers shot her a glare. “Given how myths and legends are working out for me these days, do you blame me?”
Zoe raised herself to her full height. “It seems to me myths and legends are treating you quite well, Mr. Kinneally.”
He grinned at her. “If these people would leave your closet.”
“You’re a myth and a legend?” Megan asked Zoe.
“Only in my own mind,” Zoe said. “But I spend a lot of time with the real thing. Although we haven’t seen much of you lately, Rob. What gives?”
He didn’t want to have cocktail party talk in the middle of Zoe’s closet. Especially with Zoe in see-through clothing and her half-naked husband-to-be beside her.
“I, ah, just came…” Rob stopped himself. That was bad. “I mean, I just got here because I—”
“He wants to know what’s going on with these Fate women,” Megan said. “He really doesn’t want to help them, and I don’t blame him.”
“I don’t blame him either,” Travers said, “but not doing something the Fates want is very hard.”
“Even when they don’t have magic,” Zoe added. “You’d think it was easier, but you’d be wrong.”
Rob sighed. “They say true love is at stake.”
“I think they’re right,” Zoe said. “The Faerie Kings have stolen their wheel. The Fates got along without it just fine for millennia, but then they gave up their magic powers because Zeus told them it was a job requirement—”
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