CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CATHERINE AND GUY WALKED after Sydney as they made their way through town. Few other pedestrians were about, but a number of carriages clipped by on the road. Light still shone from the windows of terraced houses, the narrow alleyways left in shadow.

To Guy, Catherine said, “We ought to try looking in the old church.”

“I agree. Once I… When I still time, we can search.”

At the cemetery, a horse and cart were stopped at the sidewalk’s edge. Two young men sat on the back of the cart, but upon catching sight of them, the pair stood and took up spades and a bundle of canvas cloth before disappearing through the gates.

Sydney came to a standstill at the cart. “You’d best do it now, Guy.”

“How much time do you need?”

Head tilted, Sydney considered him. “About two hours. Three would be better.”

“For five people…” Guy bit at his bottom lip. “That’s fifteen hours.”

“Can you manage it or not?”

Guy looked away, lighting his lantern, setting it down on the cart. He placed the watch and winding key next to it, then put on his glasses, removed a sewing needle from his coat pocket, and pricked the skin of his palm. “Just give me a moment.”

He smeared a bit of blood on the back of the pocket watch. After cleaning his palm with a handkerchief, he fit the winding key into the case to wind the mainspring. He closed his eyes, turning the key, the mechanism clicking softly.

The familiar sounds of the city continued on, but Catherine could imagine, almost sense, the magic drawing around them, pulling close. Three hours, suspended, outside of time. Fifteen hours of Guy’s memories.

Silence fell as he pulled the key from the watch. It was a peculiar stillness, an unsettling solitude. The wind ceased, the nearby streetlight no longer flickered. A little ways down the road, a carriage was halted, motionless, horses arrested midstep. Disconcertingly, Guy’s watch kept ticking; he stared down at it with a dazed expression.

“I was worried I wouldn’t do it right,” he murmured.

Sydney asked, “Do we have three hours?” And when Guy nodded, he clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll have your payment to you first thing tomorrow.” Lighting another lantern, he lifted a spade from the cart, heading off into the darkness of the cemetery.

Guy took off his spectacles. Lantern light glanced over his features as he tucked the watch and winding key back into his pocket. Turning, he looked up and down the street. “Gracious,” he said. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

Catherine eyed him. “Are you all right?”

“A little dizzy,” he admitted. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Yes, you mentioned so.”

He picked up his lantern, using it to gesture toward the gates. “Shall we?”

Yet as they reached them, Guy paused beneath the stone arch. “Miss Daly, wait.” His voice was strange, distant. He put the lantern on the ground, and with his other hand, he grabbed hold of the gate. He leaned against it, his temple pressed to the iron bar.