CHAPTER SEVEN
Rosie had no trouble figuring out what sizes to get for Sorcha. That was the sort of thing extrasensory talent was good for. Simon had told her enough about Sorcha for her to guess what kind of clothes she’d like.
So the first stop would be Harvey Nichols and with luck, Rosie would find everything she needed there. After all, she was looking for just one outfit. Homecoming clothes.
She found a pair of light jeans so soft they felt like they’d been worn for years, a silk wool gray sweater, and a pair of Italian flat ankle boots. Stylish and comfy. The pièce de résistance was a blood-red scarf. Rosie knew it would make Sorcha’s blonde hair and amber eyes pop. Just in case Simon had forgotten how lovely she was. After grabbing some honeymoon-worthy undergarments, she popped back into the hospital.
“I brought you escape clothes. Hurry and get changed before somebody comes.” Rosie tossed the bags on the bed and started pulling things out. Sorcha just sat in the chair and stared at her. “What are you doing? Get dressed. I’m taking you to meet Simon.”
Still, Sorcha didn’t move.
“Okay. You’re starting to creep me out. What’s the problem?” Sorcha shook her head and muttered something about how she was not going to also start talking to herself. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to really go bananas on me.”
Sorcha wrapped her arms around her middle and started to rock a little.
“Stop that!” Rosie demanded. “Look. I can make you put these clothes on. I’d rather you do it voluntarily. But it’s up to you. What’s it gonna be? The easy way or the hard way?” Sorcha made no move. “Look I know this has been rough for you.” She reached out and put her hand on Sorcha’s shoulder.
Sorcha jumped and looked at Rosie. Startled. “I felt that!”
“Well, of course you felt it. That’s because it was real. I’m real. You’re real. And unfortunately so is this crazy farm. So let’s get out of here. Right?”
Sorcha didn’t look completely convinced, but she stood up and Rosie could tell she’d done a good job of personal shopping by the look on her client’s face.
“These are… nice,” Sorcha said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had regular clothes.”
“Well, the sooner you get dressed, the sooner we can put this behind you.”
“Am I goin’ to disappear like you did?”
Rosie grinned. “It’s not disappearing if you’re the one doing it. But yes. We’re going to leave here in an unconventional way and meet Simon at the Balmoral.”
“The Balmoral? I’ve ne’er been inside.”
“Well. It’s nice. You’ll love it.”
Sorcha had just put the red scarf around her neck when they heard someone at the door. Rosie didn’t have time to prepare Sorcha for the trip.
“Grab hold of me and don’t let go until I say you can.” She grabbed Sorcha’s wrist as Sorcha grabbed two fistfuls of Rosie’s clothing.
When the door opened, they were gone.
Simon was well on the way to wearing a path in the carpet of the outer room of the suite he’d taken at the Balmoral when his first guest arrived without a sound. When Simon reached the end of his pace path and turned, a sinfully good-looking sex demon was standing directly in front of him. Simon jumped back and barely contained an unmanly yelp.
With clenched teeth, he said, “Can you demons figure out a way to let people know you’re coming?”
Deliverance crossed his arms over his chest, cocked his head to the side, and, looking genuinely curious, said, “Like what?” Simon said nothing. “A chime? An aoogah horn? Oh! I know! The Mario Brothers flower!!” He snapped his fingers and the two seconds of music filled the room like surround sound. “I like it. What do you think? Or we could do medieval royalty fanfare with herald trumpets. Always a fan favorite.” He raised his chin. “And entirely fitting for announcing my arrival, don’t you think?”
“Good grief.” Simon turned away, sorry he’d ever suggested some kind of warning signal.
“Personally, I think this is one of your better ideas. Brilliant really.”
“Just forget it.”
Deliverance shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Now that it’s out there, we have to do it.” Deliverance grinned. “Annnnnnd, we should each have our own signal. Like a ringtone.” His smile faded as he took on a more serious expression. “I’d better choose mine while all the options are still open. Rosie could be here any minute and you know she’d pick the one I really want most.”
Simon sighed.
“Okay.” Deliverance plowed ahead. “Mario Brothers flower. Whenever you hear it, prepare yourself for the pleasure of my company.”
“Pleasure of your company,” Simon repeated drily.
Deliverance opened his mouth to say something, but Rosie and Sorcha stepped out of the passes looking none the worse for travel, except that Sorcha’s cheeks were rosy from the exhilaration and the red scarf that complemented her complexion. She wore no makeup, but didn’t need any.
“Hey,” Deliverance said to Rosie, “guess what? We’re getting ringtones.”
“I have a ringtone.”
“No. Not for your phone. For warning humans we’re arriving.”
“Oh. Good idea.” Rosie nodded. “I’m tired of all the gasping and chest clutching. That’ll be a nice change.”
“I’ve got the Mario Brothers flower music. So you can’t have it.”
“Shame. That’s what I would have chosen.”
“I knew it!” he exclaimed.
During this exchange Simon and Sorcha were staring at each other. While Rosie and Deliverance prattled on as if they were the only two in the room, Simon took a deep breath and walked toward her.
“You look the same,” he said.
“You, ah, don’t. And how can that be? Am I really gone in the head? Seein’ things? Hearin’ things?”
“So much to tell you, but first, you have to believe that you are not crazy. You’ve just been the victim of an unfortunate adventure. And I’m so sorry for that.”
“So you’re really… older?”
Simon smiled. “Afraid so.”
“I’m no’ sayin’ ’tis bad. I mean you’re still quite lovely.”
He grinned. “I’m lovely?”
“Aye.”
That one word fallen from lips he was sure he’d never see again did him in. The reality of the moment hit him all at once. For twenty years he’d been grieving the loss of someone he’d taken for dead. Or worse than dead. Being the Director of The Order of the Black Swan, he was in a unique position to imagine potential horrors.
His chest expanded involuntarily and took in a huge gulping breath as he fought to restrain the tears that Black Swan Directors do not cry. When a single escapee trailed down his face, Sorcha stepped closer and reached up to wipe it away. “What’s your life been like?”
He smiled sadly. “Awful.”
She smiled in return. “Tell me all about it.”
“I will. But first, do you want to go home?”
“Home?” She looked over at Rosie and Deliverance, who had stopped debating supernatural ringtones and were watching the reunited couple. “They asked me that same thing. I do no’ know what it means.”
“It’s sort of complicated. And I’ll help you sort it out in time, but for right now, it means going back to the world where you were a grad student sleeping on the ground with an errant vampire hunter.”
She smiled slightly, searching his face. “You’re still stickin’ to that?”
“I am. And I’ll tell you all about that as well. Will you come home with me?”
“O’ course.”
“One thing before you give your final answer. When we get home, you’ll start to age again.”
She laughed softly. “’Tis maybe no’ so bad. Looks good on you. And maybe I like that you’re the one who’s older now.”
He pulled her in for a sweet, soft, lingering kiss and that time she let him take his time. Her taste and touch and feel were exactly as he remembered, but so much more powerful in the flesh.
“Okay, you two. There’ll be plenty of time for smooches when you’re back where you belong. Simon, I popped in and told your assistant to cancel your appointments because you’re on extended personal time, but if you’re gone much longer, there will be a crisis in management.”
Simon looked at Rosie. “What do you mean? I…” It dawned on him that time was moving faster in his own dimension. “How long have I been gone?”
Deliverance wiggled his fingers like he was calculating. “Twenty-five days.”
Simon paled and looked like he needed to sit down. The idea of leaving the helm unattended for twenty-five days was beyond unthinkable. Given the number of things he attended to each and every day, an unexpected absence of that sort was sure to have created disasters, catastrophes, bedlam, pandemonium, and shit hitting the fan so often the fan stopped working.
“Oh gods,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Deliverance reassured him. “The important stuff never depends on just one person. The world wasn’t set up that way.”
Simon didn’t know if that was wisdom for the ages or Deliverance gibberish. “We need to get back.”
Rosie turned to Deliverance. “We need handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs?” Sorcha sounded understandably alarmed.
“You know how you arrived here,” Simon waved at the suite where they stood, “by unusual means. It’s possible to be lost in transit. Handcuffs are a safeguard to ensure that doesn’t happen. Don’t worry. They’ve done this a hundred times.”
She looked back over her shoulder. Rosie was standing there alone.
“Where did he go?” Sorcha asked.
“To get the handcuffs,” Rosie said.
“You just need one pair. I’m going back the way I came,” Simon said decidedly.
Rosie shook her head. “Not an option.”
“Why’s that?”
“How long did it take you to get here from the Ring of Thorgall?” Simon’s eyes began to glaze over when he grasped what she was saying. He really didn’t want another experience with the passes. But he couldn’t afford to be gone for another… “Eight days, six hours. That’s how much longer you’d be gone.”
Simon looked defeated. “I guess you’re right. That’s not an option.”
“What’s the problem?” Sorcha asked.
“He’s human,” Rosie answered.
“I know that,” Sorcha said.
“He can’t go through the passes as easily as you because he’s human.”
“Oh.” Sorcha looked at Simon sympathetically. “What happens to him?”
“His tummy gets upset and he feels like he’s not in control. It’d be hard to say which he objects to more.”
Simon rolled his eyes. That was punctuated by Deliverance arriving half a second after the Lucasfilm sound system version of Mario Brothers flower.
“Props. And jealous,” said Rosie. “You definitely got the best ringtone.”
Deliverance preened while holding up two pairs of fuzzy handcuffs, one black, one pink. He grinned at Sorcha and wiggled his eyebrows. Contrary to the reaction of most women, Sorcha looked at Rosie and said, “I’ll go with you.”
Deliverance barked out a laugh. “Looks like you made a real conquest, old man,” he told Simon. Again holding up the cuffs, he gave Simon the choice. “Pink or black?”
“What do you think?” Simon replied.
“Right. Pink. Good choice,” Deliverance said.
If they were going for a walk on Princes Street, Simon would have protested, but there was no one to care in the passes. At least that was what he was choosing to believe at the moment.
As soon as they stepped into Simon’s inner office inside Black Swan Headquarters, Simon told Rosie, “Will you please explain the somewhat unique circumstances to your parents and ask if they can hold down the fort here? I know I’ve been MIA, but I need twenty-four hours with my… Sorcha.”