Page 18 of Simon Says

“Okay.” She unlocked Simon’s handcuff.

“It was unspeakably horrible. And I’m not doing it again.”

Rosie stared and blinked slowly. “Seriously? How are you going to get back?”

He fixed a silent and stony glare on her as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, punched the screen a couple of times, and said, “Fix this location and send a whister. Now.

“Humans do not belong there any more than fish belong in the Sahara. The fact that you have to give us an injection and keep us handcuffed is a big fucking clue.”

“Simon! You saidfucking!”

“Yes, Elora Rose. I know the word. I’m not three.”

“I know, but I thought all the muckety mucks have a negative view of profanity.”

“Idohave a negative view of profanity. And I am not a fucking muckety muck. I’m the Headquarters Director of The Order of the Black Swan. I’mthemuckety muck.”

“Alright. Alright. What’s the problem? Tummy upset?” She pulled a can of ginger ale out of her shoulder bag and held it out to him. “No problem. I have the number one universal remedy used by choosy caregivers the world over.”

He gave her a dirty look. “Redundant.”

“What?”

“Once you said ‘universal’, adding ‘the world over’ was redundant.”

“I bet you bring a red pen to restaurants so you can edit menus, don’t you?”

He glared even harder. If that was possible. “You have to carry first aid for humans? You’re making my point about why dragging humans through the passes should be banned.” He took the ginger ale, popped the top, and jumped back as it fizzed all over his hand, most of the contents ending up on the ground. His gaze slowly raised to Rosie.

“Sorry?” She gave a ‘don’t-blame-me’ shrug that was cute and would melt the sternness out of a lesser man, but Simon was mad as a hornet. And he was not a lesser man.

“Just give me a minute.” He pulled a neatly pressed and folded, old-fashioned white handkerchief out of his coat pocket, wiped his hands and the ginger ale can, then gingerly took a sip.

Rosie decided the best course of action was to leave him alone and let the carbonated cure do its work. She looked around. There were signs of modernity here and there, but for the most part, it would be easy to imagine how the green plain must have looked when the stones were first erected.

Notthatdifferent. Same water. Same black craggy coastline. Same grasses. Same sky. Same breeze.

There was no denying that it was a place of immense power. The force of it had registered even before she stepped out of the passes and she was having to apply some self-control to keep herself from vibrating visibly. Some people call such places vortexes, but that’s not accurate. The word gateway would be a much better description.

Rosie’s witch whiskers twitched and reached out for information. Unlike other witches, she also had a demon side to call on, which meant that little went undetected.

Like all the standing stone sites, the location was chosen because of an intersection of powerful ley lines, which facilitated coming and going between dimensions. Who erected the sites was a mystery, even to Rosie.

“Even Grandpop isn’t this old,” she said under her breath.

“What was that?” Simon asked.

Rosie’s head jerked around like she’d forgotten he was there. “Nothing. Just chill a minute, sip your ginger ale, and let me look around. By the time that has a chance to work, I’ll have some questions.”

She walked part of the way around the circle then cut across the diametric line to the other side. She slowly proceeded to weave in and out of the circle as she allowed her normal defenses to drop so that she could feel the full range of sensory stimulus, trying not to step on the cuckooflowers and crush them.

By the time she made her way back to Simon, he was clearly feeling better.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

She chuckled. “No need to say you’re sorry. There’s a reason why I carry ginger ale and wear a thick skin when I take humans through the passes.”

“Standing by my original opinion that we have no business in whatever that was.”

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