Simon was torn between his desire to find out what happened to Sorcha and his need to keep Rosie safe. “Deliverance.”
“What about him?”
“Ask him to help. I’ll feel better about it if he’s the one helping because I know he won’t let anything happen to you.”
She shrugged. “I could. The idea doesn’t fill me with delight because the only thing predictable about Grandpop is that you can count on unpredictability. But if it eases your mind, I’ll ask. If he comes, we might be able to skip a couple of steps.”
“It would.”
“You be okay here? I’ll need to, um, go away.”
Simon chuckled. “Yes. I don’t need babysitting.” He looked at his watch. “How long will you be gone?”
“Hard to say. Could be ten minutes. Could be an hour.”
“The whister will be here in half an hour. Should I stay or should I go?”
“Dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah.” Rosie sang the instrumental reply to the vocal question posed by The Clash. Simon looked at her like she needed urgent psychiatric attention. “You don’t know the song?”
“What song?”
“‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’”?
Simon rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t know that song, but there is a question awaiting a reply.”
“Go.”
“Is that your final answer?”
“I think it would be best.”
“I’m staying.”
“Have it your way, but you are not allowed to interfere. Or even offer suggestions.”
Simon pursed his lips. “Alright.”
“And you can’t enter the circle.”
He looked around. “What will you do if someone comes?”
“Wait until there’s nobody around.”
“I could use some Black Swan influence to cordon off the area.”
Rosie cocked her head to the side. “Why don’t we just see if we can get this done without alerting everybody in the U.K.? Now, do you need anything before I go?”
Shaking his head, Simon said, “No. I just had part of a ginger ale.” He sat down on the ground and looked around. “I haven’t enjoyed the pleasure of being really alone for a long time.”
“K. Later.” And she was gone.
Simon breathed the sea air deep into his lungs. He looked up at the partly cloudy sky that was more rule than exception in Scotia, looked out across the blue water, looked at the occasional wildflower still blooming in early October, and felt his mouth tingle at the memory of Sorcha’s kiss so many years before.
He’d never been the foolhardy sort. As a young man he’d never shrunk from a fight. As a vampire hunter he’d never hesitated when confronted with an encounter that might mean his death. But there was a gargantuan difference between bravery and brashness.
He knew he should sit where he was and wait for Rosie to return. There was no question in his mind that waiting was the prudent thing to do. The right thing to do. Nonetheless, he got up and walked toward the ring.
Maybe he was feeling guilt because he’d been left behind and saved from whatever fate Sorcha had found on the other side of the ring. Maybe he was elated at learning something that passed for an answer as to what happened all those years in the past. Maybe his eagerness overrode both sense and self-preservation.
In any case, when the whister arrived, Simon wasn’t there.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What do you mean he was nowhere in sight?” Rosie demanded of the whister pilot.
“Just that, Mrs. Catch.”
“Ms. Storm.”
“Whatever.”
Rosie’s temper flared. The whister pilot would, no doubt, sleep better at night not knowing how close he came to being a turd in the grass. And a small one at that.
“I also tried his phone,” the pilot continued. “Goes straight to voicemail.”
Rosie wheeled away from the pilot and looked at Deliverance, who just shrugged. She ran her hand through her hair. “What do you think?”
Deliverance stood with arms crossed over his bare chest, which was, in his opinion, the ultimate fashion expression. His black eyes picked up the light and, to some degree, reflected whatever he looked at. Slowly he moved his gaze away from the pilot to his granddaughter.
“I think you gave him the key and he used it.”
“Way to make me feel better.”
Deliverance looked confused. “I didn’t know you felt bad. So how would I know I’m supposed to make you feel better?”
“HE’S PROBABLY DEAD!”
Deliverance shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I’m going to be in so much trouble with the Jefferson Unit Sovereign. Not to mention that I liked Simon. He was okay for an… administrator type.”
“Your husband is an administrator type.”
She gave him a look that said she didn’t appreciate that comment. “Wait a minute. What don’t you know?”
“A few things. Not much.”
“No.” She was sounding exasperated, which never worked with Deliverance. She counted to five, calmed herself down, and said, “He’s human. The injection I gave him would only last a couple of hours. It would be wearing off in,” she looked at her watch, “soon.”
“An injection of your blood?”
“Yeah. What else?”
“To ride the passes with you?”
“Yes.” She drew the word out as if to say ‘duh’.
“You’re assuming it’s a portal to passes.”
Rosie stared at him for a few seconds, his meaning dawning. She turned to the whister pilot. “You can go.”
“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me, ma’am. The Director called me. I have to wait until he tells me to leave.”
“What is happening here is above your intel level. You don’t have clearance to stay.”
The pilot’s eyes flicked nervously between Rosie and Deliverance. He was clearly torn. “I’ll go, but it’s on you. Your responsibility. Right?”
“I take full responsibility. Want a blood pact?”
The pilot looked from Rosie to Deliverance as if trying to determine whether or not she was joking. Seeing that they both looked serious, he said, “No. Your word is okay.”
They watched the pilot walk back across the field to the whister and waited until he’d lifted off and flown out of sight.
“If it doesn’t lead to the passes…”
“It’s a portal.”
“So if it opens directly into another dimension…”
“He’s alive and, more important, probably easy to find.”
“That would be what I’d call catching a break.” She looked around the ring. “So who built this and why?”
He shrugged. “Heard stories. Nothing to…”
“Write home about?” He shook his head. “Take to the bank?” He shook his head. “Get excited about?”
He grinned. “Yeah. That.”
“Like what?”
“The stories?” She nodded. “Well, we,” referring to elementals like himself and Rosie, “can open a door and step into the passes anywhere. We can travel wherever we want. We don’t need a designated gateway to a particular dimension to get there.”
“But others do.”
He nodded. “There are places where there are little tears in the fabric that separate realities that occur naturally. Not stationary. They move around. Pop up here or there for a minute, then they’re gone. Then there are places like this, where somebody wanted a portal with a permanent two-way hinge. Those not like us could come and go when they wanted.”
Rosie was fascinated. “Wow. It’s a good thing humans don’t know what it is or how to use it.”
Deliverance ran a hand over his chest like he enjoyed the pleasure of his own touch and agreed. “Chaos calling.”
“So whoever built these… well, why?”
“The usual,” Deliverance said.
“What’s the usual?”
“Sex.”
“Grand. Everything in the universe isn’t about sex.”
“Yes, it is,” he said with absolute certainty.
“I know I’m going to be sorry for asking this, but how do you figure the reason for this portal was about sex?”
“You know what happened with the Elk Mountain tribe?”
“In what sense?”
“They stopped making girls. When they stopped making girls, they got desperate. Same thing happens if there’s a shortage of boys. Love makes the world go round, you know.”
“Because the strongest instinct is mating.”
“Well, it is if you’re the mating kind.”
She rolled her eyes. “So grabbing potential brides, or grooms, is the reason these were constructed?”
“Told you. I heard stories. Can’t say for sure, but it’s as good a working theory as any.”
Rosie nodded thoughtfully. “Doesn’t tell us who figured out how to do it.” Deliverance shrugged again. “So. You want to see what’s on the other side?”
“Do they have willing women and margaritas?”
“Won’t know until we look.”
“Okay. I’m juiced up and good for a while. I’m in.”
Rosie started walking toward the north stone. “Oh, hold on a sec.” She pulled her phone out and called Glen. “Hey. I’m on a job for Simon.” Pause. “Tell you about it later. Thing is I may be out of touch for a bit. Don’t worry. I’m in good hands.” Pause. Her eyes came to rest on Deliverance. “Grand.” Pause. “Geez, Glen. No more coffee today. Right? Okay. Gotta go. I love you. More than anything.” She hung up before he could ask more questions.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The third time, trying to remember how fast he’d chased Sorcha around the ring when he was twenty years younger, and finding that it took more effort to achieve that speed than he remembered, his panting turned to gasps when he touched the rock and found that it was no more material than air.
He stepped through the rock as if it wasn’t there, but once on the other side thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
Because nothing was changed.
The sky was threatening to shower, just as it had been. The plain was deserted, just as it had been. Purple foxgloves were dancing in the occasional waft of breeze, just as they had been. Dejected that his experiment had failed, he walked back to the spot where he’d sat down to wait for Rosie’s return and took up his post, deciding that he would never tell a soul that he’d been foolish enough to think he could find his own way to another world.
When an hour passed, he began to wonder why the whister hadn’t arrived. For that matter, he had expected Rosie to be back sooner. He looked at his watch, but no time had passed. He thought that strange, but concluded, again, that his mind was playing tricks on him.
He pulled his phone from his pocket to check messages and found the black screen of death. There was no response to an attempt to reboot. The device was stone cold dead.
At dinner time, he was feeling worried, hungry, and thirsty. He reasoned that if Rosie’s tracking skills were keen enough to locate someone in another dimension, she shouldn’t have much trouble finding him if he wandered off to hunt down something to eat. So Simon began walking south.
He crossed the plain, climbed a rise, and saw cattle grazing in the distance. Reasoning that he could find someone who’d point him in the direction of food, he walked that way. His shoes were designed more for office wear than hiking cross country and were more fashionable than functional in a rugged way, but they were passably comfortable.
Keeping up a steady pace, he could see the cattle that had been in the distance more clearly with every step he took in their direction. He squinted his eyes because something was off. The shape of their bodies. The shape of their horns, maybe.
He continued to put one foot in front of the other until the truth of what he was seeing was inescapable. The animals were not cattle. They were Hebridean sheep that were the size of cattle. The multiple sets of horns, that seemed like a fetching curiosity on a small breed of sheep, looked ominous on animals as large as cattle.
As he approached, some of them lifted their heads and observed his proximity with eyes that looked more intelligent than the smaller variety he’d seen before. He wondered why he’d been unaware of an effort by breeders to dramatically increase the size of Hebrideans. It hadn’t been that long since he’d visited the north.
He saw a farmhouse with smoke coming from the chimney and hoped the sheep would let him pass so he could inquire about the closest place to find food. Three Border Collies trotted over to say hello as he neared the door. He gave each of them a brief rub behind the ears before proceeding. The aroma coming from the cabin was heavenly and his mouth began watering. Literally.
An elderly fae opened the door and stood waiting for Simon to state his business.
“Good evening,” Simon said.
“Huh!” The fae said. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Human,” to someone in the house.
Simon heard a feminine voice, but couldn’t understand what was said.
The fae turned back to Simon.
“I’ve been separated from my companions. We were, ah, sightseeing at the ring. I was wondering where would be the closest place to get dinner.”
The fae turned and shouted over his shoulder again. “Wants dinner.” After appearing to listen to a reply, the fae turned back to Simon. “You got money?”
Simon blinked rapidly. He wasn’t sure whether he did or not. He so rarely needed money, he didn’t think to keep a supply on hand. He fished out his wallet, opened it, and said, “Yes. Some. Bank of Scotland notes.”
The fae nodded. “Good enough. We’re havin’ buffalo and potatoes. How’s that?”
“That’s, ah, very nice. I don’t want to put you out.”
“If you pay me, you will no’ be puttin’ me out then, will you?”
“I suppose not.”
“What’s it worth to you?”
At that point, Simon was getting over his surprise at the strange exchange and getting into the spirit of the transaction. “I suppose that depends on how good it is. And whether or not you’re serving wine.”
The fae’s eyes crinkled in humor at the challenge. “Wine. Nay. Red ale is what we’re havin’. And ’tis good enough for human, I’ll tell ye that.”
“And what else are you serving? Besides buffalo and potatoes?”
“Garden greens. Fresh baked bread. Bread puddin’.”
“Three pounds.”
The fae laughed then shouted over his shoulder, “Says he’ll give ye three pounds.” He listened then said, “Ten,” to Simon.
Simon looked at his wallet again. He had almost two hundred pounds, but didn’t want to appear to be a pushover. “Five.”
The fae opened the door wide. “Come in. We’re happy to have you for dinner.”
Simon nodded and stepped inside. The house was simple, but clean and cozy. Two more Border Collies came to greet him like he was an old friend.
“This way,” the man said as he walked away. “I’m Angus.”
In just a few steps they arrived in the kitchen. It was the largest room in the house, with a roughhewn dining table in the center of the room, already set for three.
“’Tis Colleen,” he said, motioning to a much younger fae. “My daughter. Visitin’ from king’s town she is.”
Colleen smiled. “From Edinburgh is what he means.” She was fresh-faced and pretty. A strawberry blonde with freckles on her nose, but she had a city girl’s sophisticated air.
“Do no’ normally eat like this,” the fae said. “You happened by on the right evenin’. No’ so much for cookin’ myself. But my lass is a famous chef in the city.”
She shook her head. “I’m only famous in his own mind. I do work as a chef, but ’tis where the similarity to the truth ends. With my da you’ll find there’s frequently a discrepancy between the truth and his version of it. And, by the
way, he was just kiddin’ about chargin’ you for dinner,” she said.
Simon looked at Angus. “He was?”
“O’ course.”
Angus laughed like he’d pulled off the best practical joke imaginable.
They chatted amiably during dinner, a repast Simon would be unlikely to forget.
“Colleen, if your father is wrong about you being famous, it’s only because he’s a visionary ahead of his time. You surely will be. Because this is marvelous.”
She blushed a charming and sincerely humble pink. “Thank you.”
“Where did you get the buffalo?” Simon asked.
“Neighbor of mine raises them. Gave it in trade for puppies.” Angus pointed behind him with a thumb. “Just had a litter divided up. This is the mama lookin’ a little lost.” One of the dogs ran over to Angus and seemed to commune with him silently while he cupped the bridge of her nose affectionately.
“I’d like to ask about your sheep. They’re quite large.”
Angus looked confused. “Large? I’ve no’ noticed they’re particularly larger than other sheep.” He gave Colleen a pointed look like he was confused by the question.
“What do you think happened to your friends?” Colleen asked.
“Probably just a misunderstanding about where we were to meet,” Simon replied without missing a beat.
“I’m headed back tomorrow,” Colleen said. “I can give you a ride as far as Edinburgh if you like.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Simon said.
“You can sleep on that sofa over there,” Angus said. “I’ll throw you a blanket.”
“That’s even kinder of you,” Simon said before pulling out his phone. “I’m not getting cell service. Do you have phone service here?”
Colleen held out her hand, asking to see the phone. “I’ve ne’er seen one like this,” she said.
“You haven’t?” he asked, thinking that his phone was the most popular brand on the market.
Even before she produced the brick-sized phone she called her ‘portable’, Simon was starting to put it together.
The cow-sized sheep.
Simon Says (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 1) Page 5
