“Fate is an excuse,” Ron blurted. “You don’t know what people will choose. Ace might have changed someday without all this.”

“Wrong!” I barked, and Paul’s expression became pensive. “But I’m not going to argue with you. Whether you accept it or not, I believe in choice as much as you do. But that pile of shepherd dung,” I said, pointing to Ace, who was hearing everything but ignoring us as he nursed his hurts, “wasn’t going to change without some heavy intervention. He might now, but not the way you left him, knowing he had a guardian angel and a get-out-of-death-free card.”

Paul’s ears went red. Ron turned to him with a hush of sliding fabric.

“Will you just leave?” I said, retreating to Barnabas. “And take your spying apprentice with you,” I added.

Paul’s mouth fell open at my caustic words, but I winked at him when Ron glanced away, and Grace giggled.

“You should give him more respect. He knows more than you do,” Ron said as he drew Paul closer to him, and Barnabas snorted.

“I think he knows more than you do, Ron,” I said. “Go already. And don’t let the scythe hit you on the way out.”

Nakita was fidgeting beside me, but I gave it little thought as Ron turned. “Come on, Paul,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Suddenly, Nakita blurted, “I’m sorry I hit you, rising timekeeper,” and both Barnabas and I jerked. She was red, and at our blank looks, she added, “What? I’m sorry. Can’t I apologize?” Stoic and silent, Ron simply vanished. Paul, though, was still here. His sandals scuffing the tile, Paul looked at the empty space beside him where Ron had been. “Um,” he mumbled as his attention came back to us. “Thanks, Nakita. It’s okay.”

“You know I said that only to get him off your case, right?” I said, and Paul touched his nose, smiling before he vanished as well in a shining line of light.

With a heavy exhale, Shoe fell back onto the bench seat, muttering.

Barnabas took his seat as well, thoughtful. “Did you notice the rising timekeeper’s amulet is the same color as mine?” he asked.