Stopping Time: Paranormal Fantasy Young Adult/New Adult Romance (Kerrigan Chronicles Book 1)

by W. J. May

  That being said, even uncharted clairvoyance could take you only so far. The future itself was always changing. Like a rogue wind, subject to the whims and wills of everyone around it.

  Szentély. Julian had asked for sanctuary.

  The question was... were they going to get it?

  “Please,” he asked again, keeping his eyes down and making a concerted effort to ignore the swarm of angry people at his back. “Please help us.”

  The old woman stared up at him in shock. Grey eyes as wide as saucers. The wrinkles at the corners going slack. Something about the proud tilt of her jaw, the high arch of her brows, told Rae she wasn’t a woman who startled easily. But Julian’s request had thrown her completely off track.

  “What in the name of heaven...” Her thick accent trailed off as she looked first at the seven friends, then at the crowd of people chasing them. Twice more her eyes repeated the journey before coming back to Julian. “What happened to you, child?”

  It was a fair question. Nine hours of running through the city, followed by an impromptu showdown in the field, had left its mark on all of them.

  Angel had a giant laceration running up the side of her neck, and Molly’s dress was in shreds. Luke and Rae were both sporting the various cuts and bruises that came with trying to fight your way out of trouble, while Gabriel looked like he’d been actively hunting it down. Devon was inarguably in the worst shape of all, bleeding profusely with his arm draped dizzily over Julian’s shoulders, while the psychic himself was still battling a severe concussion from the night before.

  Yes, it was a fair question. But it wasn’t the easiest story to explain.

  “Speak, child.” The woman’s voice was firm, but not unfriendly, as she prompted Julian again. For the most part, she seemed merely curious. “You came to us for help.”

  Julian nodded with a quiet sigh. There was blood on his face, but most of it was Devon’s. He wiped it self-consciously with the back of his hand before trying to answer her question. “It was all a misunderstanding. We were in the wrong part of town—”

  “HA!”

  A tall man hopped off one of the wagons, coming to stand by the woman’s side. His eyes swept over the friends with obvious suspicion before he leaned down and began muttering in her ear. Hungarian again. Too quick for Rae to make out much of what they were saying. But one word jumped out from the rest—

  “Tolvajok.”

  A tatù floated to the surface, and she suddenly understood. So did Julian.

  “We’re not—I promise.” His eyes shone with sincerity as they latched desperately onto the woman’s face. “You have my word. We are not thieves.”

  This time, her eyes swept over him with a spark of interest. Taking special note of his high cheekbones and dark hair. “You know the language of the old country.” He nodded silently and her head tilted with a curious frown. “But you’re English.”

  His face darkened as he glanced over his shoulder at the violent mob. “Not today.”

  The guards had been inching closer the whole time the two had been speaking. Already, a few were standing just a stone’s throw away. One wrong move, and that impromptu showdown would start right back up again. This time, with so many witnesses, Rae didn’t know how they’d fare.

  The woman’s eyes danced as they fell on the renegade children. Twinkling as they travelled from one to the next. Lingering amusedly on the chains.

  “Not English,” she repeated with a slow smile. “Not today.”

  A throat cleared suddenly as the giant stepped forward across the grass.

  “Sounds plenty English to me.” He flashed her a cautious smile, moving even closer. “Not exactly in your jurisdiction, then, is it? Best you just leave them with us.”

  Jurisdiction?

  “Like hell,” Angel muttered, fingers tightening over a rock clenched in her hand. Rae’s eyes swept the ground beside her, prepared to use whatever she could find.

  “Just leave them with us,” the giant repeated with a grin, “and we’ll call it a day.”

  In the grass behind him, what remained of his men were prowling on the sidelines. Looking beaten, bruised, and quite eager to return the favor.

  Gabriel and Luke took a step forward. Molly stepped in front of Devon with bated breath.

  “Who was it?”

  The woman’s voice cut through the sudden tension, freezing the giant in his tracks as Julian turned back to her in surprise. It took him a second to register the question. “I’m sorry?”

  “Who was it?” she repeated curiously. “The person who gave you those eyes?”

  His lips parted for a moment as a strange emotion swept across his face. A second later, he lowered his eyes to the ground. Speaking in a soft undertone. “My mother.”

  Devon flashed him a quick look as Rae’s heart tightened in her chest. The woman, on the other hand, was standing unnervingly still. She looked him over with an appraising smile before tilting her head towards the men standing at his back.

  “And what did you do?”

  The answer was simple. All he had to do was lie. And yet, there was something about the old woman that held him strangely accountable. An air of authority that made each of them straighten up like errant children caught misbehaving after school.

  That being said, they’d done nothing wrong.

  Julian’s eyes flashed and he lifted his chin with defiance. “Nothing she wouldn’t forgive.”

  There was a split second of silence, then the old woman burst out laughing.

  It was a raucous sound. More witch’s cackle than proper laughter, but jovial nonetheless. At any rate, it did the trick. No sooner had she started than the rest of the caravan joined in. It caught like wildfire, jumping from person to person, until it crescendoed into a deafening wave.

  Rae glanced at Gabriel, who was standing stiffly by her side.

  “So what do you think?” she whispered. “Any chance this is going to work?”

  His eyes darted warily around the clearing. “In my experience, people don’t get this excited unless they’re about to either screw you or kill you.”

  She shot him a strange look. “And which is this?”

  He shrugged in response. “Too soon to tell.”

  Fortunately, neither one was to happen. After a few minutes, the old woman raised her hand in a welcoming gesture. An unmistakable invitation that came not a moment too soon.

  Without missing a beat, Rae and the others darted across the open grass and assimilated themselves quickly into the crowd, standing shoulder to shoulder amongst the caravan. This time, when they looked back at the giant and his men, there were a hundred people standing at their side.

  His beady eyes cooled as the odds turned suddenly against him. “You’re making a serious mistake,” he murmured, every trace of good humor melting away. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, old lady. Just turn them over, and we’ll all go on our way.”

  Rae sucked in a nervous breath, but the ‘old lady’ was more than up to the challenge. She regarded the hulking colossus with little more than a grin.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she replied, as calm as if the two were talking about the weather. “You see, the children happen to be our guests. And you know how we cigány treat our guests.”

  Her eyes flashed, and the hulking man actually took a step back. He focused on the rest of them instead. Pointing a finger at each in turn, he and his men backed slowly across the field. “I’ll be seeing you,” he promised, eyes alight with a menacing smile. “You can’t hide out here in the woods forever. Set one foot back in that city, and you’re mine.”

  With that, he vanished over the side of the hill. Heading up the dusty path that led back to the streets of London.

  The gang watched until he’d disappeared. Standing close together and unnaturally still. It was hard to reconcile how quickly their world had turned upside-down. Hard to imagine that, just a few short days ago, their biggest problem had been trying t
o get to the royal ballet on time.

  “Ahem.”

  Rae jumped with the others as a throat cleared loudly behind them. Feeling the same feeling of dread. The same prickle of nerves as a hundred pairs of curious eyes zeroed in on her face.

  Julian’s face fell ever so slightly as he took a step forward, raking back his long dark hair. “I guess you’re going to be wanting some kind of explanation.”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled as they rested on each one in turn. “Later,” she declared. “For now... it’s time we got you something to eat.”

  LET IT NEVER BE SAID that a Hungarian caravan failed to show its guests the proper hospitality.

  Rae had never seen such generosity. Such openness of spirit. Clothes were offered without a thought as to when they might be returned. Wounds were gently tended amidst tables of wine and food. The blacksmith even offered to let them keep their severed manacles as ironic souvenirs.

  It was enough to fill Rae with gratitude under the best of circumstances, and considering the gang’s rather vulnerable position she found herself unspeakably touched.

  There was no interrogation. No trial by fire. Aside from the occasional grumbles, cursing all things English, not a single mention as to why exactly the seven friends were there.

  Apparently, once you’d been welcomed into the caravan you were welcome there for life.

  The old woman’s name was Olanna, and just as Julian had predicted she was the leader of this particular tribe. Like her mother before her. And her grandmother before that. The caravan had been travelling for the last three weeks. Laden down with fruits and livestock and wares from as far as the Celtic Sea. They had been intending to camp within the gates of the city that night but, given the rather precarious position of their new friends, they’d decided to camp in the woods instead.

  It was a process that Olanna oversaw herself.

  “No, no, no. Put those back with the others.” She waved away a trio of men who’d been laying out blankets in the grass by the fire. “They’ll be sleeping in one of the wagons. Just like me.”

  The gang looked up in surprise, already in the process of preparing for bed, then pushed slowly to their feet, the light of the golden flames flickering on their tired faces.

  “That’s really not necessary,” Rae said quickly, well aware that beds in the wagons were reserved for only a select few. “You’ve already been more than generous.”

  “Nonsense.” Olanna waved away her concerns, gesturing to a large cart. “It isn’t often we get visitors—much less English fugitives. We’d like to offer our best. It’s the least we can do.”

  Her eyes sparkled at the word fugitives, then softened as they fell upon certain members of the weary group. Rae’s husband in particular.

  “Besides, he should sleep in an actual bed tonight. Poor thing.”

  Devon had yet to fully recover from his injury on the battlefield. While the bleeding had stopped and the tribe’s healer had assured them there was no permanent damage, he had clearly sustained a massive concussion and was having trouble keeping pace with the others. As it stood, he was propped up on a bench near the fire, his eyes in constant danger of closing shut.

  They thanked her again, and as Olanna bid goodnight to the others Rae left the group behind and knelt down in front of him, stroking his hair with a tender smile. “Hey, stranger. How are you feeling?”

  He blinked sleepily, trying to focus on her face. “Oh, you know. Like some cave troll just lowered my IQ by about fifty points.”

  She laughed softly, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. “If it’s any consolation, most of that sludge the healer smeared on your forehead is already rubbing off.”

  There had been a mild crisis when the gang found themselves faced with the prospect of seventeenth- century homeopathic medicine. Especially when most of that medicine turned out to be a salve concocted from things one would most likely find in a swamp.

  Devon lifted his hand with the ghost of a smile, then dropped it back to his side in defeat. “Remind me again why we got married?”

  “Lost a bet,” she answered promptly. Her fingers squeezed around his hand. “I also figured I might need some eventual protection against cave trolls.”

  Her smile faded as she remembered the way he’d jumped in between them. Throwing his body in front of hers like a shield. Sacrificing himself without a second thought. “Devon Wardell, when are you going to stop jumping off cliffs for me?”

  His eyes lifted up to hers. Stained silver in the light of the moon. “When you stop playing around cliffs.”

  The two shared a tender smile. A fleeting, starlit moment where the rest of the world seemed to fall away. Then his eyelids started to droop and the two headed to the wagon to get some sleep.

  It was a tight squeeze. Or at least it would be when all seven of them were inside. But for now, there was something oddly cozy about it. A simple mattress under a canvas ceiling. Just enough space between the slats of wood that they were still able to see the stars.

  They lay there together for a long time. Listening to the sounds of the crackling fire. The screaming protests of children as they resisted being put to bed. For the second time, Rae was reminded strangely of her own home. Of that controlled sort of chaos that came from living in the moment and being surrounded by the people you love.

  It wasn’t until the sounds of the camp started to quiet down, until the caravan of families started to turn in for the night, that Rae froze perfectly still. Struck with a sudden memory. The echo of a quiet question, ringing out beneath the stars.

  Do you ever think about having another kid?

  Her body stiffened as a gulp of air stuck in her throat. Only a clash with a real-life titan could have suppressed the question so long. Now that it was back, it consumed her. Body and soul.

  The truth? Yes, she had thought about it.

  It was impossible to have one baby without imagining the possibility of another. And since she was sixteen, Rae had dreamed about what it would be like if she and Devon had a son.

  But the concept of siblings wasn’t exactly welcome in the supernatural community. Tatùs were passed down one per family. If the two of them were to have another child, would that child get the ink instead of Aria? Crushing her every dream of following in her parents’ magical footsteps?

  And, of course, all that paled in light of the real question.

  Did she actually want a second child?

  The life of a secret agent didn’t lend itself well to family; she and Devon were struggling to make time together as it was. It was a life of trial-and-error, and while their daughter had been an unimaginable blessing there was a built-in liability as well.

  What if she or Devon were killed on assignment? Brainwashed and left for dead? What if some crazed psychopath followed them home from work? What if—

  —what if one parent accidentally got them both stuck back in time?

  An abrupt panic took hold, gripping her from head to toe. She grappled with it for a few seconds, counting out the pounding beats of her pulse, before lacing her fingers between her husband’s.

  “Devon...” she began tentatively, heart fluttering nervously in her chest as she wondered how to phrase it, “were you serious earlier today? When you asked about having another child?”

  A deafening silence followed the question.

  “Because I didn’t mean to shut you down,” she continued hastily. “The only reason I didn’t answer was because we rounded the corner and found everybody in chains. I wasn’t trying to...to put you off or anything. Especially when I had to coax it out of you in the first place.”

  Another silence. Even louder than the first.

  “Okay—fine. I forced it out of you. But can you blame me?” She threw up her hands, staring at the ceiling in the dark. “You can be so cryptic sometimes. Especially when it’s about something important. I swear, it’s like pulling teeth just trying to—”

  She paused a beat, then let out a sigh. />
  “You scared me, all right? You asked me the question and it scared me.”

  Just saying the words was like hitting a release valve. Tapping into a mess of emotions she never knew she had. A kind of fog descended as they bubbled up to the surface, a million half-formed thoughts whirling through her head.

  “Do you remember the other day when you asked what Aria and I had done for dinner? I told you we’d gone out to that new Chinese place and apologized that we didn’t get you some? Well, I lied, Devon. We actually had ice cream and crisps in a fort on the living room floor.”

  It was like the floodgates had opened, coming out of her in a rush.

  “I regularly forget to do laundry. On the rare times that I do remember, there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll end up breaking the machine. You know that navy sweater you love so much? The one you wore when your parents renewed their vows? I shrank it a week after the ceremony, trying to figure out the spin cycle. I’ve been conjuring you new ones ever since.”

  Faster and faster she rambled. Laying everything out on the line.

  “I know you told me not to, but I use my mom’s tatù to light the fireplace because I can’t figure out how to work the gas. Whenever Aria asks me to check for monsters in the closet, a small part of me gets genuinely afraid. And I keep dodging Mrs. Warner’s requests for a parent-teacher conference, because I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m sitting on the wrong side of the desk.”

  She ended in a grand flourish, bolting upright on the bed.

  “How can we do it, Devon?” The actual question hit her like a ton of bricks. “How can we have another kid, when I’m still figuring out how to not be a kid myself?”

  For the record, Devon Wardell was a regular champion when it came to these sorts of panic attacks. He was a born listener with a genuine empathetic streak, who had then been professionally trained to talk people in crisis down off the ledge.

  His wife had leaned on this skill many times. So had the rest of their high-spirited friends.

  Rae leaned back onto the bed, feeling as though a weight had already been lifted. Preparing for one of his signature pep-talks. For the words of wisdom that would guide her to the other side.