Page 74 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

“Awww.” I scuffle over as the lighter fluid in my cup becomes the happy warmth in my blood. “It’s okay, little Rae. You can’t help it. Hell, for a few hours, neither could I.”

The frustration vanishes from her scowl. Open puzzlement takes its place. “Can’t help what?”

“Pascaline’s story,” I clarify. “A secret prince. A clever gypsy. A spell for time travel. It all sounds a hell of a lot better than a delusional actor, a superstitious country woman, and a great piece of folklore.”

“Folklore.” Rae’s lips pinch tight over her echo. “That’s how you’re labeling the fact that Maximillian De Leon’s body was never actually found and buried? And about how that clever gypsy spell has only allowed for the guy to live for three and a half more weeks?”

I stumble backward. The thick carpet of slick leaves gives way, slamming me down into the mud, but I ward off both their offers of help. The cold muck is a salve to the fire in my brain and the sprint of my pulse. “Well, crap,” I finally stammer.

“Crap fondue,” Drue elaborates. Her face goes weirdly pale. “So…you know that part?” She bugs her eyes at Raegan. “Did you tell her?”

Rae drops her jaw. “You mean you didn’t?”

“Stand down, wenches.” I slog back to my feet. “I learned it from Max himself.” I take a new grateful swig from the fresh cup Drue presses into my grip. “I…think.”

Drue fidgets with the end of her ponytail. “Which means what?”

“I overheard him yesterday. He was talking to Henri…all but emotionally hog-tying the man with a story about how he had limited time. That the curse that brought him here had rules to it.”

“Oh yeah, it does.” Raegan all but ignores Drue’s censuring look, firming her chin and squaring her shoulders. If not for her Team Bolt T-shirt, the woman appears like she’s about to sit through a job interview. “Pasca filled us in on the rest of the story, after you went upstairs to read Max the riot act.”

At first, all I do is glug down more Crémant. I hate the intuition that slams me as vehemently as the alcohol. Still, I force myself to vocalize it. “So you’re seriously telling me that there’s more to that whole fairy tale?”

Drue leans both elbows on her handlebars. “According to Pasca, yeah. Stuff that’s even crazier than what you already heard.”

I drink again, floored by the immediate implication of the recognition. That Max wasn’t just making shit up as he went along with Henri. But it still doesn’t solve, or even narrow down, my dilemma. I’m still pining my soul out over a lunatic who should be committed or a ghost who should be complete ash.

I definitely, absolutely, should not be even sniffing at the third option.

That what Raegan’s winding up to say is even half of the truth.

“Apparently, the gypsy’s curse…spell…whatever…that threw Max forward through time could only be a placeholder for his soul.”

Nope. Not even half.

“A what for his what?” I spit at once.

“A placeholder,” she repeats. “Like a spiritual bookmark. Now, Max has to finish the story, so to speak.”

With deeper gratitude, I accept Drue’s refill to my cup. “And that’s accomplished…how?”

Rae’s gaze narrows as if I’ve just asked who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb. “His soul has to find its true match, of course.”

“Sure,” I croak. “Of course.”

She goes on as if the snark never left me. “But the deal is, the magic’s only good for one full cycle of the moon.”

I cock my head. “And how long is that?”

“Twenty-nine and a half days, give or take a few hours.” Drue blink-blinks at both of us. “What? I like science.”

“And I like reality.” I dart a nod of thanks for her being my ongoing bartender but stick to my skeptical glower. “How the hell are you hearing this and believing any of it’s possible?” I demand.

Drue shrugs with frightening ease. “How are you so sure it’s not?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“The universe surprises us with possibilities every day, honey. When most of the châteaus in this valley were constructed, they were considered the height of man’s possibility. If anyone from this time appeared in their midst and claimed bullet trains, airliners, and space shuttles were possible, they’d be burned at the stake or tossed in the asylum. So why not believe something like time travel can be real?”