Time Stoppers Page 8

  Although he knew it was unlikely, he was unnerved by the possibility that his grandmother may have somehow followed him here. He tried to figure out the lay of the town, searching for escape routes. The town seemed centered along one main, narrow street. Shops lined the two sides of it. Most were two stories and had a bit of a lean about them. They were all boxy rectangles. Snow covered their roofs. From that street, curving, smaller roads branched out. Stone walls lined them. Gates of wood or iron led to paths that inched through the snow toward front doors.

  Eva stood next to him and elbowed him in the stomach. “Like it?”

  Jamie nodded. To not nod would seem insulting, and Eva seemed like the sort of girl who would punch you in the nose if she felt insulted. Plus, he did like it. The town felt strange, but in a good way. It was as if the air tingled and the road might turn to gold at any moment.

  “It’s the only town in the entire universe where there are absolutely no norms,” Eva boasted. “Not counting you, of course. And maybe Annie. Highly unlikely she’s a norm, though.”

  “Norms?”

  “Un-magic creatures.”

  Jamie’s eyes grew big. His heart seemed to thump a bit too hard against his ribs, the memory of his grandmother’s transformation attacking him. “So you mean everyone here is magic?”

  “Yep. Pretty much.” Eva stared at him. “Why does that make you look all scared?”

  “It’s just … My grandmother—” How could he explain it?

  “You think we’re all going to eat you?” Eva slapped herself in the leg and started laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. “There aren’t any trolls here. They were banned. The town was founded by Thomas Fylbrigg back in, like—oh, I don’t know, forever ago—because he thought we needed a safe place. There were all those witch trials going on and some huge magic world fight. It’s hard to hide your magic all the time, you know? Well, you probably wouldn’t …”

  Eva trailed off, embarrassed to mention Jamie’s distinct lack of magic. He shrugged and motioned for her to go on talking, which she did. Eva tended not to need any encouragement when it came to talking.

  “So,” she continued. “Anyway, there are a ton of witches and dwarfs and shifters still out there running about, obviously. They aren’t all here in Aurora. But they do tend to cluster in certain cities. There are a lot in Savannah, Georgia. It smells nice there. All flowery. Too warm for me, though. I like the cold. And then there are more in Hammana, Dublin, Prague, Mindoro Island, some random Scottish town whose name I can’t pronounce, a place in Buenos Aires, Kolwezi …”

  “Uh-huh.” Jamie glanced away, still searching for his grandmother. There were side streets off the main road they stood on now. Each street had houses and some more buildings on it.

  Eva peered at him. “You’re shaking. You’re acting like you’re going to pass out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re nervous.” Eva paused, trying to put it all together. “Don’t you worry. You may not be magic, but you survived trolls. And I promise you, on my dwarf’s honor, that I’ll keep you safe even if the town ain’t hidden no more.”

  Jamie peered down at Eva, who was standing on tippy toes and squaring her shoulders back to seem more imposing. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the Moony Horn Café. Something grabbed him by the arm, yanking him sideways and backward. Before he could scream, the door of the shop closed soundly behind him. The only noise Jamie managed to make was “Eep.”

  Eva, his protector, didn’t notice a thing.

  11

  Miss Cornelia

  The old woman strode through the crowd and stood right in front of Annie. The gray cat darted under the hem of her eighteen rainbow skirts. Rainbow-colored tights bagged about her ankles, and judging from the crinkled lines surrounding her very blue eyes, she might have been three hundred years old.

  She focused all her attention on Annie. “Greetings, dear Annie Nobody. I am Miss Cornelia. I cannot tell you the great joy I feel that it was Tala who located you. It’s just so right.”

  The strangely dressed woman took charge, sweeping Annie in front of her as they made their way through the crowd and down the road. People kept reaching out and touching Annie’s arm or hair or face like they were trying to be sure she was real.

  Miss Cornelia shouted over her shoulder, “Thank you for your kind work, everyone! We’ll just be going home now. See you tomorrow!”

  Once they were a decent distance away, Miss Cornelia stopped walking. She sighed, and it seemed to Annie that there was something very sad about the woman’s eyes. “I know you’ve just arrived, but I think I need to give you this now, just in case. It’s dangerous times. Dangerous times indeed.”

  She pulled out a three-bladed dagger from beneath one of her wool sweaters. Light glinted off the silver blades.

  Annie gasped, backing up a step. She’d never seen an actual weapon before except at the Tardiffs’, the foster home where the dad liked to shoot at small living things like bunnies and squirrels. All. The. Time. She was not too keen on weapons. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” Miss Cornelia bent a little so her face was closer to Annie’s. Annie couldn’t bear the strength of her gaze. She peeked off to her right at a store that had a sign saying MAKE IT MAGICAL.

  Miss Cornelia’s voice brought her back. “Annie. You may have a special gift that you might not be aware of, and this gift is terribly important to us, but it also puts you at great risk. Do you follow?”

  Annie nodded but the nod was an absolute lie. She had no clue what was going on.

  “Good,” the woman continued. Wind swirled her skirts. One of the dogs dipped beneath the cloth. “So that is why I am giving you this weapon now, although you are far from ready for it, I fear. Sometimes we have to face things before our time. Such is the way of the world.

  “However it may appear, this is not a weapon of the body but of the spirit.” Miss Cornelia shook her head. “You must think this is all preposterous, possibly absurd, most likely unfathomable, but I assure you it isn’t. This is the phurba or thunder nail. It’s been in my family for generations. It is meant to nail evil to the ground, and it has done that quite a few times. Plus, it represents insight. Do you know what insight is?”

  Annie gave a thumbs-up but somehow couldn’t answer. Her insides shivered just being so close to the sharp, deadly metal.

  “Take it and keep it with you. When the time comes, you will know when to use it,” the woman urged.

  Annie’s hand wrapped around the ornate handle of the blade. Images of all sorts of magical creatures were melded into the silver. She wanted to draw them, to trace her fingers on their features. She longed for her pastels, which were still in the Wiegles’ wrecked trailer. A serpent and a dragon were the most prominent of the images shifting before her. The handle of the weapon seemed so kind and lovely, nothing like the steel of the blade. She touched the face of what resembled a cherub. It winked. She gasped, almost dropping the dagger.

  The woman’s hand touched her shoulder. “Put it away for now. Let’s hope you never need it.”

  Annie’s heart flip-flopped. She must be seeing things. “I thought it winked.”

  “Of course it did.”

  “Oh.” Annie glanced at Tala and the little dogs, hoping for guidance. They sat patiently waiting for her to make a move. The signs? The dagger? The hovering snowmobile? Jamie’s grandmother? Nothing made sense.

  The woman’s fingers tapped against Annie’s coat. “Just don’t let Eva see it. She has a hankering for weapons.”

  Annie thought for a minute. She needed to understand what was going on, but she also needed to make sure Jamie was okay. She tucked the knife in her pocket, staring back at the crowd, but she didn’t see him anywhere. “Where’s Jamie?”

  Miss Cornelia whistled and a dove landed on her shoulder. She cooed to it and made some clucking, birdlike noises. The dove flew off down the
hill. “She will locate him.”

  “Okay,” Annie said, shivering from both confusion and cold. “Thanks … Um … Are … Are … Are you going to be my foster mother?”

  The woman’s lip may have quivered a bit as she said, “You could give me that designation—at least until another one is deemed more appropriate.”

  Annie’s mouth dropped open, and she took a step backward toward the crowd. “I think you have to fill out forms or something.”

  “Don’t worry. I have it under control. Human bureaucracy is something I can still manage, thankfully. It’ll just take a couple of days.” The old woman caught Annie’s elbow in her hand and whispered into Annie’s ear, “Thank everyone.”

  “Thank you!” Annie yelled, turning her head back to investigate the crowd.

  They cheered again. Eva gave her a double thumbs-up sign. Annie couldn’t understand it. Her heart wanted to soar, but when a heart is beaten down too much, too often, it sometimes has a hard time believing in love.

  “They’re very happy,” Annie said as Miss Cornelia hustled her forward.

  “They should be. You are here.”

  “What?” Annie wasn’t sure she heard her correctly.

  “I said that you are here, therefore they should be happy,” Miss Cornelia repeated as she strode farther down the road and began striding up a long hill.

  Nobody had ever been happy that Annie was there. And if they were? Well, they didn’t stay happy for long. Annie crumbled a bit inside. What had the Wiegles said? If you wanted people to love you, you had to do what they said? She’d do that here … She’d follow all the rules and do whatever they needed so she could stay. Maybe she would never belong anywhere, but maybe, just this once, she could manage to not get kicked out.

  The wind stopped blowing for a moment as Miss Cornelia continued, “I never should have let the mayor know when you were coming. He can never resist a rally, and goodness knows the people of this town love to make a big hubbub of things whenever they get the opportunity. They’re always ready for a party. I’m sure it’s all terribly intimidating for you.”

  The lady stopped in midpace so quickly that Annie ran into her. The wool coat scratched against her nose, and Annie sneezed. Wool always made her sneeze.

  Miss Cornelia turned around and cast kind but stern eyes on Annie, and then reached out to place a gentle hand on her head, making Annie’s heart calm just the smallest of bits.

  To Annie in that moment, Miss Cornelia seemed so stable and strong, like an old tree that’s watched over a river for years and years. No one ever touched Annie or hugged her or kissed her cheek.

  Maybe this place will be okay. Annie smiled down at Tala.

  The dove landed on Miss Cornelia’s shoulder. It chattered at her, and she cocked her head to listen and said, “Thank you, friend.”

  She can talk to birds? First Tala can understand humans and now this? Seriously? Annie couldn’t believe how great Aurora was.

  Turning to Annie, her new foster mother simply breathed out and said, “Well, we had better wait for young Jamie.”

  12

  Sweets

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  Brittle and sharp, the voice accosting Jamie’s ears was the opposite of the sugary sweet smells of the shop.

  “Jamie,” he mumbled, staring at the woman holding his arm. Flour dotted her face, which was contorted into an I’m-going-to-kill-you-if-you-answer-wrong sort of expression. “Actually it’s … it’s … um … James Hephaistion Alexander. People call me Jamie.”

  The woman sniffed at him, nostrils flaring. “Well, yes, people will do that, won’t they? People.”

  She sputtered the word “people” like it was a curse. Her hair was flung about her head in spiky brown ringlets, and her too-large brown eyes stared at him curiously. There was a tiny dab of sugar on her sharp chin and patches of dark flour all over her flowered apron. She let him go, wiping her hands on the cotton fabric, which sent puffs of flour dust into the air. “I don’t suppose you’re one, are you?”

  “One what?” Jamie asked.

  “A person … A normal, non-magic person.”

  “Oh … yes … I am, sorry. I’m afraid I am.” Jamie sighed. He wanted to add “useless.” He was a useless, normal, non-magical person.

  She took a step back toward the counter and grasped a rolling pin, clutching it like some sort of weapon. “Then what are you doing here?”

  Jamie stepped back. He had no desire to be bashed with a rolling pin. “Eva, the short girl who seems sort of violent? She brought me with Annie.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do a thing like that?”

  “I think it’s because …” He wasn’t sure how to admit this, especially to a rolling pin–wielding baker with angry eyes. “Well, my grandmother? She was about to eat me.”

  “Eat you!” The woman plopped into a chair. The rolling pin fell harmlessly onto her lap. She left it there and sighed. “Is she a troll?”

  “I guess so.”

  The woman leaned forward in her chair. “Are you a troll?”

  “NO!” Jamie staggered backward, moving so quickly that he bashed into a table and propelled himself right into a purple-painted chair. “Oh, no! I couldn’t be! Could I?”

  “Well, you’re quite short. And frail. That’s not troll-like, but there’s no telling really. Most of you don’t turn till you’re thirteen.”

  Jamie gasped.

  “What? Are you thirteen?”

  “I’m only twelve,” Jamie explained. “But my birthday’s Saturday.”

  “Happy almost birthday,” she said offhandedly and scooted her chair closer to him, peering in his face. “Some change then. But you don’t show any indications … Quite short … No green tinge … Thin nose, petite but not bulbous …”

  Jamie cleared his throat. She was too close. Her breath smelled of almonds.

  She sniffed the air around his face. “No foul smells. Good!”

  Jamie breathed out as she leaned back and rubbed at some flour that had crusted to her cheek. Relief surrounded him, making him a tiny bit dizzy.

  “Well, that’s a whole year you’ve got to stay human. Tell me. Have you lived with trolls all your life?” She leaned forward again, waiting for his reply.

  “My dad and my grandmother? Yes, I think so. I mean … I don’t actually remember when I was a baby or anything.”

  She scoffed. “People don’t remember that. Only witches do.”

  Jamie thought about what Eva told him about the town being full of magic people. “Are you a witch?”

  “Me? Nope. I wish I were so lucky.”

  Jamie didn’t know how to ask politely, so he just forged ahead. “Are you magic, though?”

  “Of course! I am a brounie.” She wiped her hands on her apron again and said in a half-sad and half-angry voice, “I don’t suppose you even know what that is.”

  “I’m sorry.” He felt like a bumbling goofball. He’d never felt so uninformed about things, not ever.

  His feelings must have shown on his face because the baker softened. “Oh, you poor thing. You don’t need to be sorry, especially since you’ve been dealing with trolls your whole life. It’s a wonder that, A, you have any manners at all, and B, you are alive. Anyway, I am a brounie. That means that I do not like crowds and prefer to work at night. Descended from the great King Peallaidh, I have the DNA required to enable me to make domestic magic. Some of us do get stuck and cranky, and usually we are at a particular person’s house for eternity, but I, as you see, have a place of my own. I’m not quite normal, is what I’m saying. According to Mr. Nate that’s due to a molecular degeneration at the—”

  “Mr. Nate!” Jamie interrupted.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I do! I do! He’s the librarian and my neighbor.”

  “Only part-time, sweetie.” She stood up and grabbed a cupcake. “Here, eat this. You look thin. The other part of the time he is here. He lives upstairs wi
th me.”

  “With you.” The cupcake glistened in his hand, a pink sugary piece of chocolate-frosted perfection. He couldn’t resist and bit into it. Happiness exploded into his mouth, caressing his tongue and teeth before melting into sugary awesomeness. He swallowed and took another bite, forgetting what they were even talking about.

  The woman didn’t. “We’re married.”

  “You’re married?” He took a moment to process this and finished his cupcake in a quick gobble.

  She winked flirtatiously. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “No! I—I didn’t mean—I—”

  “I’m just playing with you, Jamie Hephaistion Alexander. Now it’s my turn to say ‘sorry.’ ” She laughed and took a bite of a cupcake. Her expression crashed back down as soon as she stopped chewing. “Nate hadn’t told me about you. He tells me everything.”

  “Well, we’re only just …” He searched for the right word. “Acquaintances. I’m sure he knows tons of kids better than he knows me and stuff.” Jamie’s stomach clenched despite the happy sugariness. He wondered if she knew about the house burning down. He opened his mouth to tell her when Eva stormed in, a blond boy just behind her.

  “We’ve been searching everywhere for you! The dove helped,” Eva shouted. “Hey, Helena! Cookies? You got cookies?” She rushed across the room and hauled Jamie out of his chair, hustling him toward the door. “Miss Cornelia wants you at Aquarius House. You don’t keep her waiting. She’ll turn you into a pair of scissors.”

  The blond boy rolled his eyes at Eva. “I’m Bloom,” he said as Eva shoved Jamie at the door.

  “Jamie,” he said, instantly liking the boy. He seemed familiar, like one of the eighth-grade baseball players at school, the one who was always winning the dunk contests at field day.

  “Come on!” Eva insisted, her hand flat on Jamie’s back.

  Jamie grabbed the door frame so he wouldn’t be pushed all the way out into the street.

  “Thank you, Helena!” he yelled, remembering to be polite. “Thank you for the cupcake.”

  “And the conversation,” Helena yelled back. “Thank you, young Jamie Hephaistion Alexander! Come back anytime.”