Every Never After Read Free Page A

complemented it.
    It was a striking contrast to Clare’s own low-slung jeans, butterfly-sparkly long-sleeved T-shirt, and Aussie outback–style chapeau perched atop the long, loose waves of her tawny locks, but then she and Al had always seemed like the odd couple—when in reality they were closer than sisters. It was one of the reasons why Clare was, impending Milo-lessness notwithstanding, really glad Maggie had set up the dig gig. She’d had twinges of unease where Al was concerned, simply because Milo was so much a part of the picture now, and—as much as she knew Al adored her cousin— Clare didn’t want her to feel any third-wheeliness. Their friendshipwas way too important to risk that. Clare and Al were like each other’s shadow. They knew each other’s thoughts. They spoke the same language—
    “We’re off to Glastonbury!” Al suddenly exclaimed, heaving her gear bag into the van. “Hic iacet Arturus rex quondam rexque futurus!”
    Okay … maybe scratch that last one.
    “Al? Do I have to Heimlich you?” Clare asked.
    “No. Why?”
    “You kinda sounded like you were choking there.”
    “Very funny.” Al sniffed in mock hurt. “For your information and enlightenment, that was Latin for—”
    “‘Here lies Arthur, The Once and Future King,’” Clare said airily.
    Al gaped at her.
    “Oh c’mon. Who doesn’t know Latin?”
    Clare had a tough time keeping a straight face for the few seconds her best and brainiest friend puzzled. But then Al blinked and snorted in amusement.
    “You totally hacked my tablet password.”
    “I totally hacked your password.” Clare nodded, grinning. “And spent a few quality minutes speed-reading all the pages you faved about Glastonbury Tor—supposed resting place of King Arthur, possible interdimensional doorway, gateway to the netherworld, and general all-around hippie magnet.”
    “Cheater.”
    “ Ingenious cheater.”
    “Ingenious …” Al muttered. “Right. Okay. How’d you guess—”
    “You bought yourself that thing as a reward for surviving the Time Monkey Shenanigans.” Clare shrugged. “‘Monkey’ was the second word I tried. Right after ‘time.’”
    “Ugh. That obvious? I am the worst techno-sidekick ever.”
    “Best,” Clare contradicted her. “I’m the only person in the world who would have figured that out. And anyway, remember howyou boosted Morholt’s Bentley with, like, chewing gum and a paper clip?”
    “More like with Bluetooth-enabled code decrypters and Milo’s cyber connections, but okay.” Al grinned. “I’ll cop to the amazingness of that feat. Do you remember how pissed he was for what we did to his precious luxury sedan?”
    “Oh yeah. I think he vowed catastrophic revenge, didn’t he?”
    “Pretty much.” Al shook her head. “Probably a good thing Stu’s stuck somewhere two thousand years in the past. He’s gonna have a tough time making our lives miserable from way back then.”
    “Yeah … I think you’re probably right.”
    But Clare frowned at the thought and felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t meant to let go of Boudicca’s torc during that last, inadvertent time-shimmer—with Morholt hanging on to it for dear greedy life—thereby stranding him with no way to get back to his own time. She felt bad for having let it happen. Then again, it was really Morholt’s own fault. He’d been trying to steal the torc. Again. And he’d bitten her. That was why she’d let go of the damned thing. Really. She hadn’t wanted to leave him stuck in the past—no matter how much of a poseur, super-villain-wannabe, self-serving jerk-ass he was. Still, she couldn’t help feeling she could have hung on just a little longer.
    “Right then …” Maggie reappeared suddenly, stepping briskly through the front door of the townhouse and locking it behind her. “That’s the last of the gear, is it? Let’s get on the road, shall we? All those pot shards aren’t just going to lie around waiting for you to