“How does herelook?”
“Fine, but. . .” Jo grabbed the chair to pull it out so she could actually sit. It didn’t budge. She could touch it, but she couldn’t do anything with it. Like it had been super-glued to the floor. It was just like the keypad at her garage hadbeen.
“That’s where these come in.” Wayne held out his watch. “Turn yours on.” Jo did as instructed. “Right, see, here—” he pointed at four small numbers beneath the time “—when the wish came in, all of us were given ten hours apiece. Will that be enough for what you want to dohere?”
“Yes, ten hours should be no problem.” Jo looked at the familiar stopwatch. “As long as I can start and stop the countdown like you did inTexas.”
“You should be able to. Everyone else can. Try itnow.”
“How?” Jo askedexpectantly.
“Sorry, doll, but we all have a different way.” He brought his fingers to his chin, thinking a moment. “Can’t say I know much about all the high-tech phonusbalonus.”
Jo double-tapped on the number ten. She may not be able to unlock her watch, but she could pull up the stopwatch function. Still, the numbers didn’t start. She’d usually just tap the number for it to start, but. . . “It’d be fantastic if the Society could develop some kind of welcome training video that lets new recruits know all about magic and time and how to use it,” Jo muttered, not expecting ananswer.
Whatever Wayne may have said was drowned out because as soon as her finger came into contact with the fabric, the world exploded into existence aroundher.
The sounds of car-horns filled the street, blaring in full-force from what she now knew had been muffled. She heard people laughing and shouting and carrying on with a detail that her ears hadn’t captured previously. The smell of breads baking mixed with brighter notes of cloying sweetness and uncommon spices, all layered under the distinct smell of industry boasted by every city in the world. Jo looked back to the tower, as if seeing it for the first time—as if seeing all of it for the firsttime.
So, this is the difference between really being alive and. . . whatever I amnow.
The chair behind her scraped as Wayne pulled it out. He motioned for Jo to sit. “After you.” She eased herself into the chair, her eyes still on the city around her. She heard sounds that she didn’t think her previously mortal ears could’ve ever picked up. She saw with unnatural clarity, every speck of grime catching thedaylight.
Lightly, very lightly, as if it might cut her, she ran her fingers over the tablecloth. Jo would’ve sworn she could feel every fiber in that instant as the grooves of her fingertips ran over them. She picked up the knife, turning it, just because she could. The metal was almost icy, and her nose picked up its scent even from far away. The fork was next. Andthen—
Her hyper-observations were startled away with a voice that was far louder than it should’vebeen.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you come in. Have you been waiting long?” A woman was poised at their table, as though she’d been standing there for a while. Jo stared up at her, mouthagape.
“No, we just sat.” Wayne smooth-talked the rough edges of their sudden appearance intoexistence.
“I’ll give you a minute with the menus,then.”
A long list of various pastries, drinks, and crepes appeared in Jo’s hands. It was printed on some high-quality parchment paper and rubber-banded to a wooden board with the restaurant's logo burned at the top. Her eyes fell on the prices and Jo had an internal argument on which question to askfirst.
“Two things.” Ultimately, she couldn’t decide what she needed to know faster, or more, so she asked both questions at once. “First, how did you do that—how did I do that? Second, how are we going to affordthis?”
Wayne chuckled. “What did wedo?”
“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what I mean. I can’t speak French.” She couldn’t speak for Wayne; after all, the man was a couple hundred years old. She hoped she could learn an extra language, or two, in that sort of time. But she’d understood the entire interaction with the waitress, conducted in a language Jo was sure she didn’tknow.
“Part of the job.” Wayne shrugged, as if he’d never given the matter much thought. Knowing him, he hadn’t. “It’d be hard to do our work if we couldn’t speak the nativetongue.”
“So, I can speak any language like a native?” Jo said inawe.
“If you need to. And if you believe youcan.”
She was suddenly reminded of what Snow had said regarding the Door—that she’d lost sight of it because she’d believed it wasn’t there. What else could she control if she merely believed? What was the point of anything at all if it could simply be changed with someone’s merethought?
“As far as payment. . . I think we have a simple solution to that.” Wayne tapped hiswatch.
“You mean to skip out on thebill.”
“It’s easier, don’t you think?” Wayne laughed at her expression and Jo’s hands flew up to her face to try to make out what look she’d been giving him. “I didn’t expect a dame like you to be intimidated by getting her hands a bitdirty.”
Jo snorted. “You have no idea what dirt is on myhands.”
“But I very much want to.” Wayne opened his mouth, as if to say something else. But he didn’t. Instead, he eased it closed and let it quirk into a small grin. He gave her a small wink, then looked back down at hismenu.
