Now and for Never by Lesley Livingston

glitter.
    â€œMagda, I have a great deal of respect for you. I always have. But you don’t frighten me. I’ve faced barbarian hordes, defied my emperor’s direct commands, courted my own death at the hands of the young man we argue over now. He did his duty and for that I’m grateful. But I’m not going to change my mind.”
    â€œMarcus didn’t kill you,” Al said. “He couldn’t.”
    â€œOf course he could.” Ashbourne waved his hand dismissively. “How else would I be standing here before you now? I died on that hill.”
    Clare nodded. “You did. But it was your old buddy Suetonius Paulinus who did the deed.”
    Ashbourne stared at Clare in disbelief.
    â€œShe’s telling the truth,” Al said. “Paulinus showed up just as the fireworks started. He seemed more than happy to oblige your request when Marcus couldn’t, and he had a very sharp sword. It was gross. Surgical, but gross.”
    The archaeologist’s brow was creased in a deep frown.
    â€œThe governor didn’t like you very much, I guess,” Al continued. “Marcus, on the other hand, was fond enough of you not to kill you. Think about it.”
    â€œYeah,” Clare said, “think about it.”
    She was becoming anxious to get the heck outta Dodge. They had the coin and didn’t need Ashbourne’s blessing. And if he discovered the theft while they were still there, things could get awkward. More awkward. “C’mon, guys. Let’s blow this scene. I’ve had enough Roman stoicism for one day.” Clarespun on her heel and hurried out of the tent with Milo, Al, and Piper close behind.
    As Clare went past, Maggie hesitated. She cast a long, disappointed glance at her colleague and old friend, a man she’d known for such a long time—and never really known at all. Without another word, Maggie turned and followed her niece out of the tent.

7
    T he teen time meddlers headed straight back to Piper’s shop to gather any provisions Clare and Allie might need for this, their last (seriously) shimmer trip. The quartet chattered intently as they walked along Chilkwell Street, plotting and planning and discussing contingencies and potential pitfalls.
    â€œIf you’d like,” Maggie offered a bit reluctantly, “I can go back and talk to Nicholas and see if I can’t persuade him to give up the coin so that you can—”
    â€œNot necessary,” Clare said breezily. “Already got it,” Al confirmed, fishing the little disc out of her pocket and holding it up for Clare’s aunt to see.
    Maggie’s jaw dropped. “How on earth did you do that?”
    Clare shrugged. “Shimmer-fried the electric lock on Nicky’s safe.”
    â€œOh. Well, that was larcenous of you,” Maggie said dryly.
    When they reached the antiquarian shop, Piper pulled an antique brass key ring out of her cargo-pants pocket, unlocked the door, and gestured them all inside. Maggie walked briskly over to the register counter and heaved her briefcase up onto the worn wooden surface. She fished around and withdrew a rumpled paper lunch bag. Whatever was in the bag made a clinking sound as she thrust it toward Clare.
    â€œI’ve brought the blood,” she declared.
    â€œYou what?”
    â€œAs per your instructions.”
    Call Maggie first tell her to bring blood … Clare remembered that line from the hastily scribbled note she’d written to herself in Morholt’s book the last time she shimmered back. “Yeah,” she sighed. “See … I actually have NO idea why I said that, or what I meant, or—”
    â€œI do.” Maggie stopped her short. “I know exactly what you meant. Not at first, of course. But I figured it out. It’s the reason I’m here and the reason you must go back, Marcus or no Marcus.”
    Maggie darted a glance at Piper, and Clare was suddenly reminded