A Discovery of Witches(226)

“It didn’t work,” I said, panicking.

“You were too focused on the details of the room. Think about Matthew. Don’t you want to be with him? Magic’s in the heart, not the mind. It’s not about words and following a procedure, like witchcraft. You have to feel it.”

“Desire.” I saw myself calling Notes and Queries from the shelf at the Bodleian, felt once more the first touch of Matthew’s lips on mine in his rooms at All Souls. The barn dropped away, and Matthew was telling me the story about Thomas Jefferson and Edward Jenner.

“No,” Em said, her voice steely. “Don’t think about Jefferson. Think about Matthew.”

“Matthew.” I brought my mind back to the touch of his cool fingers against my skin, the rich sound of his voice, the sense of intense vitality when we were together.

I picked up my foot.

It landed in the corner of the stillroom, where I was squashed behind an old barrel.

“What if she gets lost?” Matthew sounded tense. “How will we get her back?”

“We don’t have to worry about that,” Sophie said, pointing in my direction. “She’s already here.”

Matthew whipped around and let out a ragged breath.

“How long have I been gone?” I felt light-headed and disoriented, but otherwise fine.

“About ninety seconds,” Sarah said. “More than enough time for Matthew to have a nervous breakdown.”

Matthew pulled me into his arms and tucked me under his chin. “Thank God. How soon can she take me with her?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sarah warned. “One step at a time.”

I looked around. “Where’s Em?”

“In the barn.” Sophie was beaming. “She’ll catch up.”

It took more than twenty minutes for Em to return. When she did, her cheeks were pink from concern as well as the cold, though some of the tension left her when she saw me standing with Matthew.

“You did good, Em,” Sarah said, kissing her in a rare public display of affection.

“Diana started thinking about Thomas Jefferson,” Em said. “She might have ended up at Monticello. Then she focused on her feelings, and her body got blurry around the edges. I blinked, and she was gone.”

That afternoon, with Em’s careful coaching, I took a slightly longer trip back to breakfast. Over the next few days, I went a bit farther with each timewalk. Going back in time aided by three objects was always easier than returning to the present, which required enormous concentration as well as an ability to accurately forecast where and when you wanted to arrive. Finally it was time to try carrying Matthew.

Sarah had insisted on limiting the variables to accommodate the extra effort required. “Start out wherever you want to end up,” she advised. “That way all you have to worry about is thinking yourself back to a particular time. The place will take care of itself.”

I took him up to the bedroom at twilight without telling him what was in store. The figure of Diana and the golden earring from Bridget Bishop’s poppet were sitting on the chest of drawers in front of a photograph of my parents.

“Much as I’d like to spend a few hours with you in here—alone—dinner is almost ready,” he protested, though there was a calculating gleam in his eyes.

“There’s plenty of time. Sarah said I’m ready to take you timewalking. We’re going back to our first night in the house.”

Matthew thought for a moment, and his eyes brightened further. “Was that the night the stars came out—inside?”

I kissed him in answer.

“Oh.” He looked shyly pleased. “What should I do?”

“Nothing.” This would be the hardest thing about timewalking for him. “What are you always telling me? Close your eyes, relax, and let me do the rest.” I grinned wickedly.

He laced his fingers through mine. “Witch.”

“You won’t even know it’s happening,” I assured him. “It’s fast. Just pick up your foot and put it down again when I tell you. And don’t let go.”

“Not a chance,” Matthew said, tightening his grip.

I thought about that night, our first alone after my encounter with Satu. I remembered his touch against my back, fierce and gentle at the same time. I felt the connection, immediate and tenacious, to that shared moment in our past.

“Now,” I whispered. Our feet rose together.

But timewalking with Matthew was different. Having him along slowed us down, and for the first time I was aware of what was happening.

The past, present, and future shimmered around us in a spiderweb of light and color. Each strand in the web moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, sometimes touching another filament before moving gently away again as if caught by a breeze. Each time strands touched—and millions of strands were touching all the time—there was the soft echo of an original, inaudible sound.

Momentarily distracted by the seemingly limitless possibilities before us, we found it easy to lose sight of the twisted red-and-white strand of time we were following. I brought my concentration back to it, knowing it would take us back to our first night in Madison.

I put my foot down and felt rough floorboards against my bare skin.

“You told me it would be fast,” he said hoarsely. “That didn’t feel fast to me.”