Time Spell Read Online Free PDF Page B

you think these people are? Something happened when you were in Vegas, and you stumbled on more than just a love triangle.” He stood again and paced in front of the fire.
    The momentary calmness dissolved, and I shivered.
    The flames darted in and out of the logs and bounced around the room creating dancing shadows. The bourbon’s prickling waves worked through my body and started to give me a little courage. I gulped another swallow. I let the ideas ricochet around my mind, but no matter which way I approached it, I knew there was only one way to do this. I had to tell him the truth.

 
    Las Vegas 1968
     
    I DREW back and arched my shoulders, narrowly avoiding a collision. An irritated waiter forged ahead with a squeaky cart donned with silver trays and a champagne bottle on ice. Close call, Ivy, I scolded myself. A quick peek around the corner curtain of where I had traveled, and I knew this was the right spot. I could feel the energy buzzing and my witchy instincts were happy.
    I turned to make sure I had my eye on exactly where the seam was and surveyed the hallway again to listen for the busy waiter and his squeaky cart. Once I could see the faint glow swishing back and forth and knew the hall was clear, I stepped closer to seal it.
    The seam, along with my grandmother’s sapphire ring, was my only way in and out of the past.
    I pointed my fingertips toward the glow and whispered, “Eclipse.”
    The ripples ebbed to a quiet stillness and the glow faded. All that remained was the wall I had just walked through. On the other side of the velvet drapes lining the catering corridor, smoke rings curled, people laughed, and the high notes of a trumpet echoed. It sounded like I had chosen a good spot for my Time Spell . I smiled.
    Now it was time to find a story.
    Magic isn’t complicated and neither is time travel. I mean, I don’t let it be complicated. Like all parts of magic, there are certain rules that apply. Everyone in my family has been blessed with a certain inner skill on top of all of our regular witchy talents, at least that’s how we like to look at it. It is a blessing for us. My skill is being able to leave the present moment for another moment in time. After years of training, I finally taught myself how to travel to the past. I call it my Time Spell .
    I never had any interest in changing history or making a mark on the past—I’ll leave that to the revolutionaries. I want to see how people who don’t have magic have lived throughout history. Mostly, I want to write about them and share their stories.
    As long as I decide to keep myself cloaked in invisibility, no one sees me, and I can’t leave a footprint on the past. I’ve jumped in and out of decades looking for amazing stories. The kind of stories that make people want to feel love, intrigue, and mystery. If I wanted to, I could reveal myself, but that’s where the rules come into play. There is always a consequence to unleashing magic. If I unveil my presence, I risk never being able to return to that moment, or worse having some sort of irreversible impact on the past.
    Ian often asks if I get lonely on my trips. “Really, Ivy, you don’t want to start talking to the people you see? You’ve never been tempted to start a conversation?” he prods every time I come home from a trip.
    My answer is always the same. “You know I can’t do that. This is how I keep it safe.” By my own rules, I can’t talk to anyone or interact with the people of the past.
    Until he mentioned loneliness, it had never occurred to me how isolated I was. I was always so wrapped up in absorbing everything around me—the clothes, the music, the conversations, the architecture, and the people—that I never stopped long enough to feel the solitude. My trips were usually short. I was in and out in a day or maybe two. Sometimes it only took ten minutes to realize I was somewhere I didn’t want to stay. On this trip, however, I could feel it—there was a story