Now and for Never (34 page)

“I
think it's a fabulous idea!” Piper enthused as she snapped shut the lid on a plastic bin full of dig equipment. “No more dusting display cases? The thrill of the hunt? Fleecing unwary tourists and lots of fresh air? I'm in!”

The Glastonbury Dig project was over and packing up for another year. For
ever,
actually. The grad students had all been sent home and Professor Nicholas Ashbourne, ex-praefect of the Imperial Legion of Rome, had decided to pack it in for good. After all those long years, it seemed, he'd finally found what he'd been searching for.

Stuart Morholt, on the other hand, not so much. And it was Morholt's suggestion that Ashbourne join forces with him and go in search of that very thing. A lost bag of Druid booty to be exact. Together they'd convinced Piper to close up shop in Glastonbury, move north to Norfolk, and start fresh—with a trio of metal detectors and a treasure-hunting tourist service. One big, happy, utterly whacko family. Not only would they have the chance to get to know each other in a new place, but the potential financial upside was irresistible.

“There were thirteen bags on that galley,” Morholt said, pouring himself another cup of tea from a thermos that was the only thing left on the tent's folding camp table. “I know. I counted. Several times.”

Nicholas Ashbourne tugged thoughtfully on the end of his moustache (which, Clare had noticed, he'd rather drastically trimmed since they'd all—including, finally, Clare herself— returned to Glastonbury a few days earlier) and said, “It's true. They've only ever found twelve treasure hoards. It's likely there's still one out there waiting to be discovered. And with my archaeological expertise—”

“Then it's settled!” Piper exclaimed, in her element with not one but two grandfather figures to boss around. “Gimble, Ashbourne, and Morholt, Treasure Seekers Incorporated, will set up shop in Snettisham this fall.”

Morholt snorted. “That's Morholt, Gimble, and—”

“Not likely, gramps.” Piper snatched the teacup from his hands, slugged its contents, and packed the cup, clearly eager to get the show on the road. And on it continued, Piper cheerfully bullying her newfound relations with plots and plans, happy as a clam at high tide.

Clare stifled a wicked grin, exchanged a knowing glance with Al, and went back to sealing up the box she was packing. She didn't bother mentioning to Goggles & Co. that, really, the odds of finding the thirteenth hoard were slim to none. In Snettisham, anyway. Maybe one day, if they decided to dig deep in the back of a cave on a little island across the ocean, those odds might improve significantly … but Clare didn't feel any pressing need to share that information. She needed at least one discovery left undiscovered. One secret she could keep all to herself. Well, one secret she could share with Al, and Al alone.

Not exactly a contingency. More like … a reminder.

And the knowledge that some things could stay hidden forever, magical, untouched, but
there
.

Maggie, whose keen-eyed gaze hadn't left Clare since Al and Goggles had successfully summoned her back through
time, must have caught the lip twitch that Clare couldn't quite control.

She pulled Clare aside. “They're not going to find a thirteenth hoard, are they?”

“Come on, Mags,” Clare protested innocently. “Those three? Who knows what they'll find! I'm sure there's all sorts of crazy stuff still to be discovered up in Snettisham. Bloody Nicky'll have them digging marvellous trenches until their fingers fall off. And Piper might be the only person I've met—other than me and Al and you, of course—who's more than a match for Morholt's nefarious evil-doer routine. If nothing else, she'll keep him in line.”

“I dare say she just might.” Maggie nodded. “And, really, the museum could always use a nice new find or two … perhaps they'll get lucky.”

“That's the spirit!” Clare grinned. “Just, while I'm back at school, don't let Morholt near Boudicca's tomb, okay?”

“Oh, don't worry.” Maggie glanced over at him. “I think even
he
would give pause for thought before tangling with the old girl again. Now come on, ducklings …”

She held the tent flap open for Clare and Al, and nodded to where Marcus and Milo were standing by Maggie's van. The ex-legionnaire and ex-Druid mapmaker had agreed to be roomies back in London until Marcus settled into life in the twenty-first century. They'd already started planning on a trip—another trip, rather more conventional this time—to Canada so that they could spend Christmas with the girls.

“I've got to get you two troublemakers back to London,” Maggie said. “We've only two weeks left to get some proper shopping in before you're back on the plane home.”

“Better a plane than a boat,” Al said with a grimace.

“You know,” Clare mused airily as she walked beside Al, “flying is just like time travel.”

“Uh-huh.” Al grinned and rolled her eyes. “Where have I heard that before?”

“Tempus fugit, pal.” Clare threw an arm around Al's shoulders. “Time flies.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Whew! Three time travel books and all without collapsing the universe in on itself!

I owe an awful lot of that good fortune, I'm sure, to all the people who've made it possible to write these books in the first place. They have kept me honest and sane. Mostly.

As always, top billing goes to John and Jessica, founding and charter members of the Time Monkey Gang! I've simply run out of superlatives for you both.

Massive thanks, once again, to Penguin Canada and Razorbill, especially my fantastic editor Lynne Missen, who is not only wicked smart, but funny, and saintly in her patience. Mary Ann Blair and Karen Alliston were once again delightful to work with and the design department was not only awesome, but awesome and
purple
! Thanks also to Liza and Charidy, and to Vikki, my terrific publicist.

Thank you, as always, to Jean Naggar and the staff of JVNLA, especially Tara Hart, for continuing to take excellent care of me. And to the lovely folks at Foundry, likewise!

Thanks to Karl Wu for advice on awesome stuff like how to make a Faraday cage. And for telling me what that was in the first place. And thank you Matthew Skinner for doing my Latin homework—again!

Thanks to my mom, who seriously rocks. And to my brother Ward, who also seriously rocks. Rock on!

And thank you once again to all of my friends who, for some strange reason, still continue on in that capacity, in spite of my glassy-eyed stares, maniacal giggling fits, and unexplained absences around deadline time!

Last, my huge heartfelt thanks to all of you readers out there who've travelled the twisty time loops with me—and Clare and Allie and Co.—you've made the journey not only worthwhile, but magnificent fun. Shenanigans forever!!

RAZORBILL

an imprint of Penguin Canada Books Inc., a Penguin Random House Company

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First published 2014

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (WEB)

Copyright © Lesley Livingston, 2014

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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Manufactured in Canada.

LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

Livingston, Lesley, author

Now and for never / Lesley Livingston.

Sequel to: Once every never, and, Every never after.

ISBN 978-0-14-318210-8 (pbk.)

I. Title. II. Title: Once every never. III. Title: Every never after.

PS8623.I925N68 2014    C813'.6    C2013-905148-1

eBook ISBN 978-0-14-319199-5

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