The Merman and the Moon Forgotten - By Kevin McGill Page 0,30
Colorado City. “They ain’t from around here.”
“Where would we live?” Caroline said. “Do you rent your own house?”
“I own my own house. In fact, I own Oxbar Estates and all the property that resides therein. Over three hundred acres of land, just outside of Huron.”
“Does it have a dining room? Like in the old movies?”
“Yes. Five, to be exact. Six floors. And a kitchen the size of a tavern.”
“So—” Brandy waved her hand. “—are there balls and dances and stuff?”
“Coaches studded with diamonds driven by a flock of geese will escort you to the finest balls in the valley.”
Brandy grabbed Caroline’s hand, trying not to squeal herself into a cardiac arrest.
“I must warn you, though. Mon carries its own danger,” Grand said.
“It isn’t the danger—” Haley’s hand unconsciously moved over her naked wrist. “—It’s that we can’t protect ourselves from it.”
“You will be given the latitude and freedom that comes with youth at your age,” said Grand. “I will make you all wards of the House of Lyons.”
Haley turned to Brandy and Caroline. “Then, we’re going. At least, the Wendells are.”
“Come on,” said Tim. “Just like that? Daniel?”
Daniel shifted his cane. “Science could only profit from such a trip. Yes, I will go.”
“Wha—?” Tim looked shell-shocked. “Oh. I get it. You’re all under the Nick spell.”
“Excuse me?” Haley scrunched her face.
“Yeah. This has nothing to do with the Geneva virus or having your own room and fancy costume balls. You’re under Nick’s crazy ‘Let’s do whatever Nick says ‘cause he’s so cool, even if he says we should cover ourselves in gasoline and run into a burning building’ spell. Might I remind everyone that Nick’s ideas end in pain and death? Are you really going to follow him into crazy because you think he’s cool?”
Nick waited for someone to deny it, because “cool” would be the stupidest reason to take a risk like this.
All eyes moved away from Tim.
“The question isn’t to them,” said Grand. “The question is to you, Tim Lyons. Will you cross the tether with us? You do not have to go. I can set up an account here. You’ll never have to work again.”
Tim stared at his grandfather dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe the Earth and Moon were tethered together in some forgotten, mythical age. On the other hand . . .
Haley did.
What would Tim choose? Principles were important. Haley’s lips were soft and pink.
“Whatever,” Tim crumbled.
Grand handed the steward’s horn to Nick and collected the pressers. “All right. I’ve let nostalgia and bygones delay us. Now, to the gateway.”
“Like a food pantry,” Xanthus said. “Or, um, wardrobe?”
Grand stopped. “If it were only that easy.” He turned and pointed to the midnight sky, “The doorway is right . . . there.”
“In the clouds?” said Xanthus.
“No,” said Grand. “Beyond the clouds.”
“What . . . space?” said Tim. “Outer space?!”
“Yes. Afraid so, Tim.”
“Of course,” said Daniel. “The gateway is a pre-fabricated wormhole.”
“No,” Grand said. “Nothing so crude. A wormhole is a tear, a scar in the heavens. This is a passageway made by the hands of a craftsman. And this is the key. It is a chronostone.” Grand held up an obsidian stone. “Quickly, now. Colorado Spaceport’s west gate is shut down for remodeling. Work crew comes in the morning.”
Eleven • The Good Life
The air conditioner grumble covered the soft shuffle of seven kids and one middle-aged man slinking their way through the empty halls of the Interplanetary Shuttle Station.
Grand slipped out a green card. “Kings will invite you to dinner, but janitors will get you into the storehouse.” Grand raised his eyes, scanning for anything familiar. “Mason Interplanetary Shuttle. Gate B15 . . . Ah, there ya are. Wait here by the counter now. Stay to the ground.”
Nick nodded.
“Oh, one other thing Nikolas,” said Grand.
“Yeah.”
Grand pointed a flashlight to a small obsidian stone. “I’ll need a co-pilot to activate the doorway while I fly the shuttle. May I entrust you with the chronostone?”
“Sure!” Nick caught himself, and whispered again. “Sure.”
“That’s a good lad. I’ve written the spell on the piece of paper. Once the potion inside is released, it will mix with the sunlight and open the gate.”
Nick slipped the chronostone into the pocket of his khaki shorts.
This all struck him as crazy weird. A magical stone lay at the bottom of his khakis, among some tissues and an old pack of gum. But that wasn’t the only thing he felt. It was there when Grand asked him to take his place as steward. . . .
Responsibility.
“All right.