Page 42 of Discovered Magic
“So your century is different from ours?”
“About a hundred and forty-eight years, if Shadow gave us the correct date,” he replied with a sweeping glance around.
“Why didn’t you come for Mary—” Jonas began.
“Abigail.”
“All right. Why didn’t you come for Abigail sooner?”
“Want to take this one, boyo?” Castor tossed to Wilder.
“He wasn’t aware he was a father before I told him. And I didn’t know Abbie was alive until a ghostly presence told me she saw her in the ether.”
Draven and Jonas seemed to share a silent communication, perhaps attempting to determine if he was mad or serious.
“Ghostly presence?” Roxanne asked from her perch on the windowsill.
Having forgotten she was present, Wilder jerked, triggering a sleepy protest from Abbie.
“Yes. It’s too long a story, but suffice it to say, my brother has a connection to the spirit world.”
“Similar to Stands-in-Shadow,” Jonas said, nodding as if Wilder’s explanation cleared things up.
“Your Native American friend talks to the dead?” Castor asked.
“Yes, but he’d prefer that be kept quiet. Only his tribe honors his gifts. White men tend to frown on anything they can’t explain.”
“Okay, back to the subject at hand—Abbie,” Wilder reminded them. “What’s been done to heal her mind?”
“Très peu,” Draven replied. “We met résistance from the patient.”
For a brief instant, humor crinkled Castor’s eyes. “Your French roots are more obvious here, Masters. And there you made everyone believe you’re Cajun. I’ll be sure to give you hell about it when I return home.”
The Guardian frowned. “I am both and neither. We’re friends?”
“Colleagues fighting for the same cause, but it’s not a stretch to call us friends.”
“And Thorne?”
“Which one?” Castor quipped. “They’re coming out of the woodwork.”
Wilder shook his head. The Traveler was adroit at conversational maneuvers, and watching him was a masterclass on how to avoid answering probing questions. They all knew Draven was referring to Jonas, but rather than reveal the truth—he was long since dead in their time—Castor chose to keep the conversation light.
Switching gears, Wilder asked, “The outlaws, where are they now?”
“Two are dead, and one flipped sides,” Jonas replied.
“Which one did this to my daughter?” Castor’s expression became icy in a blink, leaving little doubt he’d put the man six feet under.
“The dead ones. You have these fellas to thank,” Roxanne supplied. She rose from her perch, glided to Castor, and squeezed his upper arm. “I’ll go air your room. My girls at the Ember need immediate supervision, but should you require company tonight?—”
“Hell, no!”
They all swiveled their heads to gape at Jonas, who until that very moment had been mild-mannered.
Her seductive laughter rang out, bringing their heads back around like a tennis match. “Oh, darling, I wasn’t offering myself. I’ve a job of it, keeping you worn out.”
She winked, causing his boyish blush, then sailed out the door.
