A Summoner's Tale(8)

After a few minutes of shared silence, Storm watched her push her hair away from her face with the back of her gardening glove. It was such a feminine and endearing gesture, one that reminded him that they were a team with a shared dream as well as a couple deeply in love with each other. He admired the graceful gesture along with the graceful edge of her profile.

"What is it you've been wanting to say?"

She looked at him briefly, at the sun low in the sky then at the ground around their feet. "I think I should tell The Order that I can slip dimensions, but I'm also afraid to do it. Having a unique ability, more than one actually... I don't want to be reclassified as dangerous because of the fire thing. Or anything else. They can be just like everybody else; afraid of the unknown, what they don't understand."

Storm stopped and looked at her like he was weighing all options. "They're probably going to think you're the most valuable associate in all of Black Swan, not just because you do what nobody else can do, but because you have information about other dimensions and species that nobody else has."

"Yeah. Well, that's the second thing I'm afraid of." She gestured toward their little corner of heaven. "I just want a simple life. Here. With you."

Storm nodded, looking pensive. "I hear a resounding 'but' hanging in the air and I know what comes after that."

"But you can't always get what you want."

He put his arms around her. "It's a fact that everything about you sets a precedent because you're one of a kind. It's also a fact that we have a duty to Black Swan." She nodded and turned her face so she could lay her temple against his collar-bone. "But we have a duty to ourselves, too. If we're going to trail blaze, let's find a balance." She pulled back and looked up at him.

He smiled reassuringly. "Are we problem solvers?" She nodded. "Well, there you go. We'll make it work."

They brainstormed through dinner and came up with a viable proposal to offer the mysterious someone that Simon, Sol, and others in similar positions reported to. Litha would agree to slip dimensions on errand for The Order occasionally, as long as they didn't start taking advantage and trying to turn it into a full time job. She would tell them everything she learned - on a part-time basis.

The Order would provide a suitable, permanent residence in Edinburgh so that they could be together comfortably and give them a generous allowance to hire a vintner/caretaker when they were away. Storm had someone in mind who would be perfect for the job.

They agreed that it was a take it or leave it deal. No negotiation.

"One last thing."

Storm looked up from the legal pad where they had written their list of demands. "What did we forget?"

"That you can also ride the passes unharmed so long as you're with me. To tell or not to tell. That is the question."

Storm tapped his pen on the table. "What's your position on lies of omission?"

"I think it's nonsense. If it isn't written or spoken, it's not a lie."

Storm's serious expression took on that guise of affectionate amusement. "So you're cute and smart, too." She tried to pinch his thigh, but she would have had more success trying to pinch the concrete kitchen counter. He laughed at her, but then immediately returned to decision-making mode. "So it's not a moral issue. It could be considered an ethics issue if I wasn't retired. But I am. Therefore..."

Litha snorted. "You didn't really just say 'therefore' did you?"

"Come on. I'm in a zone here."

She leaned back in her chair. "Aye aye, sir."

"Therefore..." He began again with emphasis and a pointed look. "...the way I see it, it's entirely up to us. What do you think?"

"All that logic just to bounce it back at me?"

He grinned. "Not bad, huh?"

She laughed. "Slick."

He jumped to his feet, grabbed her out of her chair and put her over his shoulder just as he had done one warm night in South Texas. Her brain temporarily froze, either from the speed with which that had happened or the fact that he was using his free hand to explore her derriere. They might be married, but what he was doing was still gasp-worthy.

"What are you doing?" She finally managed to gush a sentence out.

He started toward their bedroom. "I can think of two things that rhyme with slick."

***

CHAPTER_3