The Art of Stealing Time: A Time Thief Novel

  “I’m just glad my moms aren’t here—oh, hell, there they are. They must have heard the lightning explosion. They’re going to want to fix you, Gregory. I’ll go tell them to go back to Ethan’s camp until Aaron’s healer can see to you.”

  Gregory grabbed the back of my mail shirt as I started off, pulling me back. “You don’t want to do that, Gwen.”

  “Why don’t I?”

  “Because they have something we badly need.”

  “They really aren’t that great at healing, although they do try their best—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Not that. See?”

  I looked at where he nodded. My mothers were picking their way through the half-sensible people, the slight form of Mrs. Vanilla in their grasp. “See what? All I see are my moms and Mrs. Vanilla.”

  “Yes.” He looked expectantly at me.

  I shook my head. “What is it that you see that I don’t?”

  “It’s not see so much as hear. What’s the name of the bird that Aaron is looking for?”

  “Vanellus.”

  “Right. And what does that sound like?”

  “Vanessa?”

  He looked at me.

  I pointed to my forehead. “I have a head injury. Stop giving me the look that says I’m missing something . . . Oh. Vanilla.” Enlightenment dawned with a prickle of electricity along my arms and legs. I turned to look back at my mothers. Gregory very gently placed a finger beneath my chin and pushed it upward until my mouth stopped hanging open in surprise. “You are kidding me!”

  “I think, unless we are very mistaken, that we are about to make Aaron extremely happy.”

  “Goodness!” Mom said as she and Mom Two lifted Mrs. Vanilla over the moaning, recumbent form of De Ath. “What did we miss?”

  “Nothing other than Gregory being awesome and stopping Death and Holly in one lightning-bedazzling blow.” Gregory smiled at the pride that I couldn’t keep out of my voice.

  “Death?” My moms stopped and looked worried.

  “He’s a new guy, evidently.” I waved toward De Ath, who once again was sitting up. “Not the same one you had the run-in with.”

  “G’day,” he said, lifting a shaky hand to my moms.

  “Oh, thank the goddess for that. Gwenny, dear, I believe Mrs. Vanilla is needed here.”

  “I do believe she is.” I watched as my moms stopped in front of me, gently setting Mrs. Vanilla onto the ground. She was just as crumpled as ever, a wrinkled old woman with hair that stood up in the back, and weathered skin that hinted at more years than most mortals saw.

  But she wasn’t mortal. At least, I didn’t think she was.

  “Do you want to do the honors?” Gregory asked me.

  “No. You figured it out. You can be the one to tell him.”

  “I love you, Gwenhwyfar Byron Owens.”

  “Almost as much as I love you, Gregory . . . er . . . what’s your middle name?”

  “I was born Rehor Ilie Nicolae Faa, which is Anglicized to Gregory Elijah Nicolas Faa.”

  “Rehor? Really?”

  “Really.”

  I licked the corner of his mouth. “Almost as much as I love you, Gregory Elijah Nicolas Faa.”

  “Do that again, and I won’t wait for a healer before I take you to bed,” he growled.

  I smiled, enjoying the way my heart sang when he turned and called for Aaron.

  “What is it? I’m busy right n—” Aaron, who was assisting the warriors nearest him, froze in mid-word, his expression blank as he stared past us.

  “I have goose bumps,” I whispered as Mrs. Vanilla, who had been making her usual unintelligible squeaks, stopped. She took one tottering step forward out of my mothers’ grips.

  Gregory said nothing, just held me with his good arm, his breath ruffling my hair in a way that was both sensual and comforting. We were meant to be together, meant to be at that place at that time, watching as a frail old lady moved past us, every step she took transforming her. Her back straightened, her skin smoothed, her hair darkened and lengthened until it flowed down her back in ebony waves. Her bathrobe lengthened as well, becoming a long dark green velvet gown that hugged blossoming curves.

  “Vanellus,” Aaron breathed, his voice filled with awe at the vision of young womanhood that stopped before him.

  “Aaron,” she responded, her voice as light and high as . . . well, as a bird’s.

  I sniffled happily as they stared at each other for another minute, and then she was in his arms and the air was full of birdsong.

  “OK, that’s seriously romantic,” I said, blinking back a few happy tears.

  “It truly is,” Mom said, handing me a tissue before using another to dab at her own eyes. “And aren’t you glad that your mother and I liberated her when we did? Just look at how happy they are.”

  I turned to look up at Gregory and basked in the love evident in his beautiful eyes. “They can’t possibly be happier than we are.”

  “Not in a hundred lifetimes,” Gregory agreed, and took my breath away with a kiss that sent lightning shimmering about us both.

  EPILOGUE

  “Right, so I get the bit about that Death guy not having powers in Anwyn and calling off Astrid after you beat him, and I understand that Aaron was so grateful that you found his bird that he is letting you guys have visitation privileges as well as allowing Gwen’s moms to stay there where they won’t get into any trouble, and I even understand that Ethan’s tree dudes refused to go back to being plants once he was defeated, and they were assimilated into Aaron’s folk, but I do not get the whole thing about Mrs. Vanilla. Why did everyone call her a bird if she was really a woman? And why didn’t she do something to find Aaron when she was back in Anwyn?”

  Gregory greatly enjoyed the warmth of Gwen, pressed close to him, seated on a couch in the sunny Paris apartment that belonged to his cousin Peter.

  The cousin in question, sitting across from them, patted his wife’s leg. “I think, my love, you need to let Gregory and Gwen finish explaining what happened.”

  “I know, but I’m just so impatient to hear it all.” Kiya gave them both a smile that was just as sunny as the living room. Gwen, who had her lap occupied by three squirming pug puppies, was too busy murmuring to them to notice. “Go ahead, Gregory.”

  “You cannot take them home,” he told Gwen quietly.

  “Sure I can. There are no quarantine laws in the States.”

  “You said you wanted to live in Wales, in order to take care of your mothers’ house. You said you loved that house. You said I would love it as well, and we’d both be happy there and make love in the bower, and I could open up an antiques shop in order to fund a lifestyle that you warned me will need ample resources.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t have dogs. Kiya said we could have a puppy.” Gwen looked up and Kiya nodded. “Besides, the UK relaxed its quarantine laws. We just have to wait three weeks now, so we can have our puppy settled by the time we go visit my moms.”

  “You seem like a very dog-friendly person, and I know Gregory is despite him being all Travellery and claiming they’re dirty and other ridiculous things like that,” Kiya told Gwen. “I would have no problem letting you have one of the puppies, but only if you finish explaining why no one realized that an old lady was really a bird.”

  Gregory laughed, and rejoiced in the sense of happiness that Gwen brought him. Not even the threat of a puppy keeping him up nights and, if he knew Gwen, snuggling in bed between them, could diminish his well-being. “We didn’t know because we were repeatedly told she was mortal, which in hindsight, was by design. Ethan’s mage brother who effected her exit from Anwyn—at Constance’s behest, no doubt, although she refuses to admit anything—did so in a manner that would defy detection by anyone looking for a bird, either in her natural or her human form.”

  “That’s why she was so helpful about getting us to Anwyn in the first place,” Gwen said. “Ethan’s rat bastard brother had enchanted her so that she
appeared to be her actual age, which meant she was a helpless old lady stuck in care over the centuries, first by private individuals and later in nursing homes.”

  “But why didn’t she just go find Aaron once she made it there?”

  “She couldn’t.” Gwen glanced at him. He gave her an encouraging nod, unable to keep from trailing his fingers along the back of her neck. She shivered and sent him a steamy look that held much promise. “She wasn’t physically capable of it. She hoped that we’d bring him within her scope at some point, which is why she got so agitated when I was looking at the history of the bird and Aaron.”

  “Such a sad story, their separation. I don’t understand why Aaron hasn’t kicked out that evil ex-wife of his. I wouldn’t want the person who was responsible for making me so miserable around where she could cause more trouble.”

  “I don’t think Aaron will allow her to do more than take care of the castle vermin,” Gregory said, recalling just how furious Aaron had been once he knew the truth about Constance’s treatment of Mrs. Vanilla.

  “And that’s another thing—what’s with all the animals being humans?”

  “And trees, and bushes and shrubs, and even some flowers,” Gwen added. “You have to remember that in Anwyn, legends are more than just myths—most of them have a strong basis in fact. So if you find a handy mage to change you into human form, then whammo! You can be queen.”

  “Well, it’s all very fantastical, but I’m glad it turned out for the best for you.” Kiya looked anxious for a moment. “You’re sure Death isn’t going to come after you again for your moms’ transgression?”

  “He hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “I don’t believe he knows anything about what happened to the man who held the position before him, to be honest,” Gregory said. “He seems to be a fairly reasonable fellow. He deliberately swung wide when he could have struck Gwen down, which is why I didn’t blast him to kingdom come.”

  “Holly, however”—Gwen’s voice turned cold and brittle—“is another matter.”

  “My arm is fine, and you have no reason to be so angry anymore,” he told Gwen, bathed in the warmth of her love. Really, could she be any more adorable than she was when she was incensed about a few cuts and a dislocated shoulder? “She’s left Anwyn, and Aaron has ordered that she be barred from entering again. She poses no harm to anyone in our family.”

  “Speaking of family—” Kiya leaned into Peter. “We wanted to tell you—”

  “She’s here! Peter-ji, she is here!” A slim young man of Indian heritage burst into their room, followed by two pugs, one of which was obviously the mother of the puppies on Gwen’s lap. He turned to Gregory, asking, “It is the most exciting event, is it not? The esteemed grandmother of Peter-ji and yourself has traveled all this way to see you and your popsy. I have such a happy warm feeling thinking of this, and so I will go to the kitchen and make sure that the curry is of a most magnificent form for lunch.”

  Sunil bounced happily out of the room before anyone could reply.

  “I’ll get the door,” Peter said with a look at Gregory. “You stay here, love.”

  “I’d better put the puppies back in their room.” Kiya waited until Peter left before taking the three puppies from Gwen. “Mrs. Faa has a weakness for pugs, and the minute she sees my babies, she’ll want them all, and I so want you and Gregory to have at least one.”

  “Oooh.” Gwen’s face lit up. “Two pugs . . .”

  He sighed, knowing full well he was doomed.

  “Tell me again how that nice young man was actually a ball of light?” Gwen asked when Kiya carried the puppies out.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you after my grandmother meets you.”

  “OK, but I’m a bit nerv—”

  Gwen’s words stopped when the door was opened and a small, doubled-over woman hobbled into the room with a cane.

  “Wow. Déjà vu there for a second,” Gwen muttered. “She could be Mrs. Vanilla’s twin.”

  “I assure you, they are not the least bit alike. Puridaj,” he said, rising and bowing before holding out his hand for Gwen. “You look well. I take it your flight to Paris was without incident.”

  His grandmother’s sharp eyes took in everything at once—the apartment, Peter, himself, and Gwen.

  “Yes. This is the one?”

  Gwen stiffened, her fingers tightening painfully around his.

  “This is my fiancée, Gwenhwyfar Byron Owens,” he said, letting a note of steel enter his voice. He’d be damned if he would let his grandmother upset Gwen. “She is an alchemist.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Gwen lied. He knew just how worried she was about this meeting. Which was just one more adorable facet of her personality.

  “Hmm.” Lenore Faa considered Gwen silently. At last she turned her attention back to him. “What is this Peter says about you being kicked out of the Watch?”

  “He wasn’t kicked out,” Gwen said before he could answer, her eyes sparkling with anger. “He was just reprimanded. The two things aren’t even remotely alike, and even so, the reprimand was totally full of bunk. Gregory didn’t do one thing in Anwyn that invoked his official status as a member of the Watch, and for them to get bent out of shape just because he went in there to save me is beyond wrong. But he still has his job, although he has to report directly to his cousin’s boss now. Which really isn’t fair to Peter, either, because all Peter did was follow protocol and not enter Anwyn. It’s all ridiculous and too stupid for words, but the bottom line is that Gregory is still with the Watch. Just . . . er . . . more probationary than he was before. He’ll tell you.” She turned to him and waved toward his grandmother. “Go ahead. Explain it all to her.”

  He laughed and couldn’t keep from pulling her into his arms, where it was his opinion she belonged. “I don’t need to, dulcea mea. You just explained it all.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to give my blessing to this marriage as I did for Piotr and his bride,” his grandmother said, sitting down when Kiya came back into the room, murmuring a welcome before she leaned against Peter. “Rehor has ever been precious to me, alchemist. I would have you cherish him as I have.”

  Gregory fought to keep the surprise from showing on his face, feeling that a moment of great importance was upon them, and it would behoove him to refrain from pointing out that he had never felt particularly cherished.

  “He’s pretty precious to me, too,” Gwen said with dignity.

  He simply could not love her more.

  “And my name is Gwen. I am an alchemist, but that is not my name.”

  No, he was wrong. He loved her more now that she talked back to his grandmother. She was perfect in every way. She had a large heart, a body that made him want to move mountains to keep her in his bed, and a character that had him on his knees with gratitude every morning.

  “I worship you,” he told her, pulling her into a kiss that he hoped would shock the dickens out of his staid grandmother.

  “As is right and proper,” she told him, laughing into his mouth when he put both his hands on her delectable ass.

  “The times, they are a-changing,” Kiya quoted, and smiled broadly when Peter put his arm around her. “And I hope you’re getting used to it, Mrs. Faa, because there is more change coming. Peter and I are going to have a baby next spring. And if the way Gregory and Gwen are going at it is anything to judge by, you may well have another great-grandbaby soon as well.”

  Gwen pulled back from his mouth, a startled look in her lovely eyes that slowly faded to speculation.

  “You can have two puppies,” he told her. “I’m just selfish enough to want you all to myself for a while before we start thinking of expanding the family.”

  “Deal,” she said with a grin, and pinched him on his butt before turning to join his grandmother in congratulations on the newest Traveller-to-be.

  “Rehor, Piotr, your cousin Sayer wished to me to pass along a message to you both. Against my wishes,
and those of his father, he desires to join you in the Watch.” Lenore Faa closed her mouth tightly for a moment before continuing. “I do not agree with our people leaving the family and joining outsiders as you both have done. You know this, and I will not repeat my arguments. He threatens to leave our family despite this, so with many reservations, I have decided that if you give me your promises that you will guard your cousin against harmful influences, then I will allow him to join you.”

  Gregory met his cousin’s eyes across the women, and saw in them the same sense of wonder, pride, and satisfaction that he knew was in his. They had done something that no Traveller had done before—they had brought change to a people who had kept to themselves for centuries. And the warm, wonderful woman who pressed against his side was the result of that action.

  He grinned at his cousin. Life promised to be very, very good . . . for all of them.

  GLOSSARY

  Akashic League: The L’au-dela organization responsible for all things related to death, spirits, and connected beings.

  Alien Hand Syndrome: A condition wherein a person feels a lack of control over a hand or arm (i.e., that the limb has a life of its own).

  Amaethon ab Don: The traditional name of Ethan, a formerly mortal warrior who went to battle with Arawyn, king of the Underworld.

  Anwyn: The Welsh version of the afterlife, ruled by Aaron (Arawn).

  Arawn: The Welsh name for the king of the Underworld. He prefers Aaron, the modern version of the name.

  Death (person): The title given to the current being in charge of handling the movement of souls after an individual (mortal or immortal) dies. The current holder of the title goes by the name De Ath.

  Ethan: The contemporary name of Amaethon ab Don. Ethan was once a warrior, and is now an author who suffers from Alien Hand Syndrome.

  L’au-dela: The formal name for the Otherworld, the society of people who live beyond mortal laws.

  L’au-dela Watch: The police force of the Otherworld, the Watch is responsible for keeping the peace amongst mortals and immortal beings, as well as protecting the mortal world from abuses by members of the Otherworld.