Part Two: The Traveler

Chapter One

"It's a bit flashy for your mom, isn't it?" Vincenta said to Chris, who stood before a display, letting a silky, brightly colored scarf slip through his fingers.

"It's not that flashy," he answered, without much conviction.

"I'm just saying, she doesn't normally wear things that bright."

"I guess not." He looked at the price tag. "Whoa. It doesn't matter anyway, because I think I'm in the wrong store. If I buy something for Mom here, no one else will get anything for Christmas, because I'll be out of money."

"I was thinking the same thing. I'm done here."

They emerged from the shop and ambled down the sidewalk, glancing in windows, until they reached a small, tidy alley, almost like a hallway for this outdoor strip of stores, with a restroom sign.

"Oh, gotta go," Vincenta announced. "That soda is catching up with me."

"I'm going to check out this shop. You'll catch up with me?"

They parted ways. Chris roamed the shop and lighted upon the perfect pair of earrings. At least, he thought so. Were they too flashy? No, they weren't; they were just right, and Vincenta wouldn't be able to convince him otherwise. He paid for them — then noticed his friend was still gone.

He exited and retraced his steps — and when he heard a slight yelp from the direction of the bathrooms, he began running. He skidded around the corner and saw, at the far end, Vincenta seemingly paralyzed. Facing her, a man held out an object Chris couldn't quite see. A beam of bluish light emanated from it, connecting to the girl.

Chris bolted toward them, and just as the man's head snapped around to see who was intruding, Chris flicked his hand, sending the attacker crashing into a wall, where he slumped, unconscious. His device clattered to the pavement beside him, its beam of light extinguished.

"Vincenta! Are you okay?"

She had dropped to the pavement herself when the beam had broken its hold, and Chris knelt down beside her.

"I guess so," she said, rather dazed.

He helped her to her unsteady feet, and they turned to the attacker — and saw no one.

"But I knocked him out!" Chris cried.

"Maybe he recovered really quickly and shimmered out?"

Chris groaned in frustration, and asked, "What did he do to you?"

"I don't know. It didn't hurt; it just felt … weird."

"How do you feel now?"

"Still weird, actually. Drained."

"Drained …"

She caught his unsettled tone and her own alarm sharpened her focus. Without even checking to see who might be in the vicinity — like the gaggle of package-laden shoppers who were just headed for the bathrooms — she squeezed her eyes shut and … nothing happened.

"He stole my power!" she gasped.

"Maybe you're just too upset right now …"

"No, it doesn't work that way — I've been upset and been able to turn invisible. He stole it; I know that's what he was doing."

Chris stared at the spot where the assailant had fell, as if to will him to reappear. That clearly wasn't going to work, so he asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Go home."

Chris grabbed her hand and, checking for observers first, orbed them to her house.

They weren't there long. As soon as they explained to her parents what had happened, her mother and father insisted they all immediately head for Magic School to report the matter to an authority — in this case, Gideon. And so Chris found himself awkwardly on the sidelines as Vincenta related the story and the Elder somehow divined that she was right — her active power was gone.

Ever since the incident in the Underworld two months ago, Chris had gotten the feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Barraza were now less than thrilled by his friendship with their daughter. This misadventure wasn't his fault at least, unless it proved he was just some kind of bad luck charm, attracting danger. But all they had been doing some Christmas shopping, he argued silently, and she was the one who had gone off on her own.

"I fear this may mean someone is targeting our students," Gideon was saying.

"Isn't it obvious why she was targeted?" Mr. Barraza said. "She used her power in the Underworld, and some demon observed it and decided to take advantage."

Oh, okay. So it is my fault, Chris realized.

"What about that demon you two summoned?" Mrs. Barraza asked.

"Mom, I saw this guy," Vincenta reasoned. "He wasn't the same demon. He looked nothing like him. He was a lot taller, better dressed …" She shrugged. "Better looking."

"Vincenta should go home and rest," Gideon said. "I will make inquiries and keep you informed." He added dismissively, "Thank you, Chris."

With commiseration and a wave goodbye for his friend, Chris escaped. Classes had finished a couple of hours ago, but there were still students around, coming from various after-school activities. He acknowledged a few classmates as he wandered down the hall, before deciding on a destination.

He doubted Penka had anything to do with this, but he wondered if the demon knew something. But he himself would not deal with Penka or any demon again. He just hoped that maybe Merlin could find something out.

The door to the wizard's office was ajar, and Chris peered around without knocking. Merlin was in — and so was Wyatt, who noticed the newcomer first. At Wyatt's questioning look, Merlin turned, smiling.

"Chris, how can we help you?" he asked.

"Um, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I can come back."

"No need. If you want to wait, very soon Wyatt will be occupied, and I'll be twiddling my thumbs. We can talk then." He asked Wyatt, "As long as you don't mind."

Settling in a cushioned chair with a skeptical smile, Wyatt said, "He can stay; I don't care."

"Then, Chris, if you can take a seat …"

The younger boy hopped up on a long, wooden cabinet and took a seat cross-legged. Despite his concerns, he couldn't help but be entertained to have a front row seat to whatever was going to happen.

Wyatt returned Chris's smug look with a glare, and then gave his attention to Merlin, who resumed:

"As I was saying, the spell will allow you to observe through the eyes of your past self, but not change the events. You will have no control over what you say or do. It will all play out as it did before."

"Will I have powers?"

"If you had powers in that past life. You may also recognize people whom you know again in this life."

"And they'll look the same as they do now."

"You mind will perceive them as such, yes," Merlin replied.

"Hey," Chris chimed in, "didn't Aunt Phoebe do this once?"

Wyatt drawled, "This was her idea. She said it helped her, and she thought it might help me. With … whatever. Who knows."

"Didn't she actually switch places — her old self came here when she went to her past life?"

"She did both," Merlin said. "But Wyatt is only going to experience the observer spell. To us, he will look like he is merely sleeping, and we can talk then."

"Oh. Okay. I'll be quiet."

The wizard turned back to Wyatt. "Ready?"

"Whenever."

Merlin recited:

Remove the chains of time and space
Send him to days of yore
Bring forth to him the hidden face
Of what he was before

Wyatt watched as a glow came toward him, but then it went astray — and instead hit Chris, who swayed back slightly as if hit by a gust of wind. He did not fall asleep, but stared, first, at himself — at his clothes, to be exact — before looking up, plainly bewildered, to see two pairs of eyes fixed on him.

"Merlin?" he said. "What … how did I get here? I was just in —"

The wizard jumped up and ordered, "Not another word!" Startled, Chris raised his eyebrows but he obeyed, to Wyatt's amused surprise. Meanwhile, Merlin rapidly muttered something in a language Wyatt could not understand. Chris immediately crumpled to the side, knocking a few nearby knick-knacks on the shelf to the floor.

"Hey!" Wyatt protested as he ran over to catch his brother. "What did you do?"

"Knocked him out," Merlin said easily.

"Why?"

"The spell obviously went wrong. Help me get him to the chair." He continued speaking as they did so: "Not only did the spell hit the wrong person, but it seems to have switched Chris with his past self."

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know. In any case, it won't do for his past self to have a good look at the future, so we will just keep him peacefully asleep until I find the spell to send him back, and bring our Chris here."

"You have to find the spell to bring him back, huh?" Wyatt chuckled. "You do realize just how much my mother is going to kill you, right?"

One second ago, he had been warm, indoors, sitting comfortably, and now …

Chris found himself in mid-stride — but not for long. Caught off guard, hardly aware of what he was doing, he stumbled and fell face-first into deep snow.

Spluttering, he pushed himself up by his hands — in mittens, he noticed — and sat back on his heels. He wanted to take in his surroundings, but his view was unexpectedly blocked by an enormous, shaggy brown dog that began enthusiastically licking snow off his face. He toppled back in the opposite direction.

"Get off me!" He pushed the dog back with some difficulty, and struggled to his feet

Aside from the sounds of the animal shuffling in the snow around him, stillness enveloped him. There was nothing but himself, the dog and endless snow-covered trees.

He began to brush the snow off his clothes, and halted. Oh, wow — his clothes. Where he had been wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket, he now sported a green woolen cloak, twisted askew in his fall to reveal … yet more wool. A kind of shirt, he supposed, nearly reached his knees, and he wore fitted trousers. Leather boots where sneakers had once been completed the look.

"Oh no." The air was so empty that he expected an echo, but all sound was caught and softened by the snow. He shook his head and told the dog, "This can't be good."

Author's Note: Before I dive into this Part Two, let me up front send big thanks to Tara, my history consultant, for her knowledge, great ideas and book loans. Here's hoping I pull it off … (Historical setting, oh, I'm nervous!)