Page 63 of Stolen Time
“Is Rowe your real last name?”
“Yes,” she said promptly — so promptly he could tell she wasn’t lying this time.
“Are you a member of the McAllister clan?” he asked then. After all, even though that last name was the one which dominated the clan, there were plenty of other surnames in use as well, thanks to the numerous nonmagical folk who’d joined the family over the years.
Finally, her gaze strayed away from his, but only for a second or two, as though she’d wanted to look down the hill toward the town before she responded.
“No,” she replied. “I was just staying in town for a while. In my time, the people in Jerome are a lot more relaxed about letting witches who aren’t members of the clan hang out for a bit.”
Seth wasn’t sure what “hanging out” meant, but he guessed it must simply mean to be present in a place for a time.
“Then what clan are you from?”
Possibly the barest hesitation. When she spoke, though, she sounded forthright enough. “My clan is the Winfield clan from Massachusetts.”
Well, at least she wasn’t a Wilcox. Not that she looked like one — from what Seth had heard, the Wilcoxes tended to be quite dark, thanks to the Navajo blood that had been mixed into the clan over the years — but since they were the nearest clan geographically to the McAllisters, that would have been the most logical explanation.
But…Massachusetts?
“What in the world are you doing all the way out here in Jerome?”
She twisted the hat she held, creasing the delicate straw, and for a moment, she didn’t look up at him, as though she was trying to decide how best to respond.
“Visiting, like I told you,” she said. “In my time, it’s no big deal to cross the continent. I wanted a change of scenery.”
Seth could only gaze back at her, feeling as if there was a great deal she must be leaving out and wondering if she would ever tell him everything. But there was one fundamental question that needed an answer.
“When exactly are you from?”
A dark shadow moved over them, and she sucked in a gasp of air before she seemed to realize it was only an owl, rousing itself to go hunt in the gloaming.
“More than a hundred years from now,” she said, her voice a little firmer than it had been a moment earlier. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell you much more than that. There’s always the risk that if I say too much about the future, it’ll change history, and that’s the last thing you want happening.”
Seth had to admit he’d never had to think about the ramifications of time travel, even if he had spent one glorious Saturday afternoon a few years ago lost in H.G. Wells’The Time Machine.It was certainly one thing to read about such matters in a book and quite another to have them facing him down in the form of the woman he loved.
“Have you…?” He hated to ask the question, but some part of him needed to know whether she viewed their relationship as seriously as he did, or whether she’d only been amusing herself while trying to figure out a way back home. “Have you tried to travel to your own time?”
Once again, her lips pressed together. “In the beginning, yes. It never worked — like I said, I can’t really control this ‘gift’ of mine. But after a while….”
The words trailed off, and he thought he understood why she’d stopped herself from completing the sentence. Doing so would have meant admitting that, after a while, she began torealize she had feelings for him…and wasn’t quite as eager to return to her own time as she might once have been.
“How did you do it, though?” he asked. “How could you hide your witch nature from everybody? How could you hide it from me?”
Now her head went back up, although he didn’t think it was out of pride. More…relief that she wouldn’t have to conceal the truth anymore.
“It’s my other gift, one I inherited from my father,” she said. “I can hide who I am from other witches and warlocks. I suppose it’s some sort of survival trait that came about as a way to protect a witch from enemy clans, but it doesn’t seem as if it has ever occurred in any other family but the Rowes. At least, none that I’ve heard of.”
No, Seth had never heard of such a thing, either. Possibly he could go to Mabel and ask her opinion on the matter, since she took great pride in studying witch history and most likely knew far more about all their various magical talents than he did.
Some inner impulse told him that wasn’t a very good idea. He couldn’t exactly say why, but even though he knew he was still upset with Devynn for the way she’d hidden the truth from him, he also thought it might be better if her secret remained between just the two of them for now.
“No one in my clan has a talent like that,” he said. “And I don’t remember ever hearing about it, so I don’t know if it exists anywhere except among your people. I suppose it was helpful in your particular situation.”
He knew he sounded cold, but he couldn’t quite stop himself. Devynn had been lying to him for the past two weeks, and even though some people might have said she had ample reason for such concealment, he couldn’t help thinking that if she liked him enough to want to kiss him, then she should have damn wellbeen able to trust him with the truth, as implausible as it might have sounded.
“Yes, it was,” she replied. Her tone had cooled as well, as though she’d had time to gauge his reaction and had decided she had better match him reaction for reaction. “I don’t expect you to understand why I didn’t confide in you.”
“Idounderstand,” he said. “Or at least, I can see why you needed some time to be sure of me before you revealed something so outrageous. And if you’d told me the truth, I would have done my best to help you, no matter how crazy your story might have sounded. Now….”