“Might what?” Will interrupted her before she finished the thought. Her plea had the effect of ice water on his excitement. “It’s one thing to travel through time. It’s another to mess with history,” Will cautioned. “Anyway, it’s all conjecture. We still don’t know if I can do it again.”
“But … what if you can and what if there was a way to make itsafe?” Zani argued from the couch.
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.” Will clenched his jaw.
There was something about the way she was pleading that unnerved him. Much as he liked Zani, he wasn’t willing to risk unraveling the entire tapestry of time to help her undo something that had already happened, and thereforemusthave happened. And he certainly wasn’t about to volunteer to assist with anything to do with that vampirepartnershe’d mentioned.
“As I said, we’ll see.” Will spoke in a way that made it clear he was done discussing.
He crossed the room to the wall mirror. Once in front of it, he clasped his hands together and twisted his palms away from his heart. He placed his hands on the mirror. In his mind’s eye, he pictured his Boston apartment, not very far from the Mudpuddle. Separating his hands and spreading out his fingers, he called up the ley lines. He used his fingertips to pluck at them, pulling certain strands from the overall design and twisting them together on a pinky finger. It was a bit like dialing a phone number, if a phone number could be dialed by pulling strings.
The trip from here to his apartment was a short and familiar route. It could be managed by the plucking of only one or two strands. So simple and close, he could already see his favorite chair, and the lamp beside it, in the shimmering beyond. But that wasn’t where he intended to go now. He’d just been using it as a test.
Will released the strands, feeling the fabric of the world go taut with possibility again. The portal remained open and his fingertips grew turgid, itching with the need to take him somewhere.
“Will.” Maida’s brows drew together. “You only just got back on your feet. Do you really think you should port again so soon?”
“What’s your favorite flavor of donuts?” he asked Zani.
“Chocolate.” Zani did not hesitate. She stared curiously into the void, then turned back to him. “No sprinkles. I hate sprinkles.”
“Okay, chocolate for you and plain for Maida.” Will bobbed his head as if making a mental note.
“I think you’re being reckless, Will,” Maida cautioned.
“I really don’t need donuts right now, Will.” Zani glanced at Maida and back at Will. “Please don’t do anything dangerous on my account.”
“Try not to be such a worrywart, Zani. Seems like your great-aunt’s got that part all buttoned up.” Will’s lame attempt at a joke was not met with any mirth.
“What will you do if you slip again, Will?” Maida shouted over the growing roar.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see!” Will replied. His heart was hammering again, half with excitement and half with fear.
Chapter10
Utterly Unforgettable
Goldie wasn’t sure where the gentleman had come from. She’d been certain she was the only one in the wood-paneled lobby. He hadn’t emerged from the theater or from the booth. Yet there he was, standing beside her, holding out a gloved hand to help her up.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
He was a handsome man. In his forties, if she had to guess. His black hair was untouched by silver. He might pass for a far younger man physically, but there was a certain steely glint quality to the gray flecks in his golden eyes she recognized. He had an older soul. Like her.
Of course, she thought, doing the quick mental math that she always did with strangers, there was old, and there wasoldold. She would have been in her seventies when he was born.
“I think I’m fine,” she said, “Just a bruised ego.” And a bruised bottom. But she didn’t think she needed to mention that part. It was nothing serious. She was lucky. She’d heal quickly. Goldie reached out and took the proffered hand. The man’s grip was strong, but gentle, as he pulled her to her feet.
Once again, she noticed how handsome he was. There was something so familiar, almost compelling, about his face. High, sharp cheekbones and a regal, aquiline nose. His eyes were an unusually pale gray. Almost without color, they were clouded with tiny flecks of gold and silver that reminded her of the cosmos. His lips were full and impeccably sculpted. Almost cruel in their precision. She could nearly taste what it might be like to be kissed by those lips. How surprising the softness would be.
She realized she was still holding his hand and staring when he cleared his throat.
“Pardon me.” She released his hand. “You just look so familiar. Where did you come from, anyway?”
“I live in London most of the time,” he said. His accent was strange, his words clipped and proper, but not quite British. She recognized it, but couldn’t quite place it. “But I came in last night from Los Angeles. By helicopter. Bit too choppy out there for my liking.” He gestured toward the ocean.
“I meant,how did you get into the building?I didn’t see anyone else here when I came in.”
Goldie studied him more warily, noting the gloves, long overcoat, and wide-brimmed hat. A pair of sunglasses was tucked into the collar of his fawn-colored sweater. Beneath this, he wore a black turtleneck. It was quite a lot of clothing for the spring weather outside. It was still chilly, but not that cold. People who wore too much clothing usually had something to hide. She took a step back.
