“I need to talk to you,” I said more intensely than I’d meant to, because both my mother and Sister Ernestine, who was standing nearby with Paul’s check still hot in her hands, turned to look at me.

“Susie, honey,” my mom said. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. Could they tell? Could they tell my heart was hammering a mile a minute and that my mouth was as dry as sand? “I just need to talk to Paul really fast.”

“And who is minding the bake sale table?” Sister Ernestine wanted to know.

“Shannon’s got it under control,” I said, reaching out and taking Paul’s arm. He was watching us—my mom, Sister Ernestine, and me—with a slightly sardonic smile, as if everything we were saying was amusing him very much.

“Well, don’t leave her alone too long,” Sister Ernestine said severely. I could tell that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, but just as far as she was willing to go in front of my mom.

“I won’t, Sister,” I said.

And then I dragged Paul away from the dais and folding chairs, and over behind one of the display tables holding the rest of the stuff that was to be auctioned.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed at him the moment we were out of earshot.

“Well, hey, Suze,” he said, looking as if he were still finding plenty about the situation to amuse him. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t give me that,” I said. It was kind of hard to talk with my mouth feeling so dry and all, but I wasn’t about to give up. “What did you buy that belt buckle for?”

“This?” Paul opened his fist and I saw silver flash in the bright sun for a second before his fingers closed over it again. “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought it was pretty.”

“Eleven hundred dollars’ worth of pretty?” I glared at him, hoping he couldn’t see how badly I was shaking. “Come on, Paul, I’m not stupid. I know why you bought that thing.”

“Really?” Paul’s grin was more infuriating than ever. “Enlighten me.”

“Only it’s not going to work.” My heart was slamming into my ribs now, but I knew there was no going back. “Jesse’s last name is de Silva. That’s an S, not a D. That isn’t his buckle.”

I’d expected this news to wipe the insufferable smile right off Paul’s face.

Only it didn’t. The corners of his mouth didn’t even waver.

“I know it isn’t Jesse’s buckle,” he said evenly. “Anything else, Suze? Or can I go now?”

I stared at him. I could feel my pulse slowing down, and the roaring sound that had filled my ears since I’d realized he was the buckle’s new owner suddenly disappeared. For the first time in several minutes, I was able to take a deep breath. Before, I’d only been able to manage shallow ones.

“Then… then you know,” I said, feeling ridiculously relieved, “you know you won’t be able to use that to go… to go back through time to save Jesse.”

“Of course,” Paul said, his smile growing broader than ever. “Because I’m going to use it to go back through time to stop Jesse’s murderer. See you, Suze.”

Chapter

ten

Diego. Felix Diego, the man who’d killed Jesse, because Jesse’s fiancée, the heinous Maria, asked him to. She had wanted to marry Diego, a slave-runner and mercenary, rather than the man her father had picked out for her to marry, her cousin (ew) Jesse.

But Jesse never made it to the wedding. That’s because he was killed on his way there. Killed by Felix Diego, though no one at the time knew that. His body was never found. People—Jesse’s own family, even—assumed that he’d chosen to run away rather than marry a girl he didn’t love and who didn’t love him. Maria had gone on to marry Felix, and they’d produced a whole bunch of kids who later grew up to be murderers and thieves themselves.

And, not too long ago, the pair of them had paid a little visit to me, at Paul’s behest. He’d met Diego’s ghost. In fact, Paul was the one who’d summoned him.

Now Paul was going to stop Diego from killing Jesse… probably by killing Diego himself. It’s easy for shifters to kill people. All we have to do is remove their souls from their bodies, escort them to that spiritual way station where their fate—whatever it was, heaven, hell, next life—was decided, and boom: back on earth, another unexplained death, another body in the morgue.

Or, in Diego’s case, the icehouse, because they didn’t have morgues in California circa 1850.

Except that it wasn’t going to happen like that. I wasn’t going to let Paul do it. Oh sure, Diego deserved to die. He was the scum of the earth. He’d killed my boyfriend, after all.

But if Diego died, that meant Jesse wouldn’t.

And then I’d never meet him.

I knew, of course, that I couldn’t stop Paul on my own— short of killing him myself. I needed backup.

Fortunately, I knew just where to find it. As soon as the auction was over, and Sister Ernestine dismissed Shannon and me with a curt, “You may go now,” I booked for my mom’s car, which she’d graciously allowed me to borrow for the day, in light of my “volunteering” to help out at the Mission. Paul had left the second after he’d dropped his little bomb about stopping Felix Diego. I had no way of knowing, really, where he’d disappeared to.

But I had a pretty good idea who might know.

The sun was just starting to set as I pulled out onto Scenic Drive, painting the western sky a deep burnt orange, and turning the sea the color of flames. The windows in the expensive seaside homes I passed reflected the light from the setting sun, so you couldn’t see inside them.

But I knew that behind the glowing glass, families were just sitting down to dinner… families like my own. I was going to be in big trouble for what I was doing… not for trying to keep Paul from saving my boyfriend’s life, but for missing dinner. Andy’s a real stickler about family mealtimes.

But what choice did I have? There was a life at stake here. And okay, so the life belonged to a heinous killer who deserved to die. That was beside the point. Paul had to be stopped.

And I knew of only one person he might possibly listen to.