“Church starts at eleven, and normally you’d be expected to go, but if you’re not feeling well, Mom and Dad would understand. They’ll go to Sunday school earlier than that, but we don’t have to get up when they do. Sundays are fend-for-yourself days for breakfast.”
“I think your mother would be deeply disappointed if she didn’t get to show me off to her friends, and that might affect our ability to get anything done without making her suspicious. I’ll be okay, assuming I can manage to get back into the house. A few hours of sleep will get me mostly back to normal.”
This time, he didn’t use magic to ease the way up the tree. He boosted me up, and then I reached a hand down to help pull him up. He was slender, but he was a lot heavier than he looked. I climbed through my bedroom window first, then held my breath and listened for other sounds of life in the house. When I was sure the coast was clear, I gestured him inside and dragged his case out from under the bed.
He put away the backpack and got out a small vial before relocking the case and hiding it again. Then he asked, “Do you think anyone would notice if I went back to my room through the hallway? I’m not sure I’m up to much more climbing around on the roof.”
“If anyone hears anything, they’ll assume you’re going to or from the bathroom. It’s not quite like the stairs.”
He eased my door open, looked up and down the hall, then slipped silently away. I waited, holding my breath, until he’d disappeared into his room, then counted to a hundred before I shut my door as silently as possible and changed into my pajamas. It looked like we’d gotten away without being noticed yet again, though that police officer had been a close call. I pulled the pillow dummy out from under my covers so I could get into bed, then tried not to think about what it had felt like when Owen’s hand had burned against mine.
He didn’t look much worse for wear when he came down to breakfast the next morning. You’d have to know him as well as I did to notice the exhaustion behind his eyes. Mom had left a stack of waffles for us to pop into the toaster, and I couldn’t detect a trace of suspicion in the note she’d written, much to my relief.
Owen was dressed the way he usually was for work, in a suit and tie. I should have been immune to seeing him that way by now, but I hadn’t seen him like that for a while, and it almost took my breath away, even as it gave me a pang for what I’d been missing. “Coffee?” I asked, trying to hide what felt like a visible reaction.
“Please.” He hung his suit jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and wearily took a seat.
I placed the coffee in front of him, along with glasses of orange juice and milk. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“As long as no one challenges me to a magical duel today, I’ll be fine. Our wizard is probably still recovering from the other night’s crime spree. The lack of local power sources should impact him—or her—even more than it does me.”
Some waffles popped out of the toaster, and I put one on a plate and set it in front of him. “Syrup’s on the table. Is there anything else you need?”
“I’m fine. Do you eat like this all the time?”
I put my own waffles on a plate and took the seat next to him. “No, Mom’s just showing off for company. Most mornings, we grab a bowl of cereal and maybe some toast.” I felt intensely conscious of how snug my skirt had become. A few months of eating Mom’s cooking without all the walking I did in New York, and I was in danger of needing to buy an entirely new wardrobe. My only saving grace was the fact that my job here involved more physical activity than my job at MSI had—well, except for when I was being chased by dragons or weird magical creatures. My days in the office at MSI were generally pretty sedentary while I seldom got to sit down for five minutes straight at the store.
Owen ate silently for a while, and then the caffeine hit his system, so he became a little more animated. “I guess we go from church to your brother’s house to make sure your sister-in-law isn’t our culprit. Then is there anything else on the agenda?”
“You’ll be pleased to note that an after-lunch nap is usually on the Sunday afternoon schedule.”
“Good. Then we’ll be ready for another busy night.”
“Another one?” I may have hated the ruffles and canopy, but otherwise, I was quite fond of my bed, particularly in the middle of the night. I wasn’t up for all this midnight creeping around.
“Our wizard should have recovered by now from Friday night’s capers, and Sunday night would be the ideal time to hit the bank for maximum impact. Imagine the shock and horror when they open the bank Monday morning to find the vault empty. That would give him a real thrill.”