Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten by Kevin McGill Page B

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. Need to see about
overriding some pass codes to the shuttle. Stay on the ground.”
Grand moved into the shadows.
    Everyone else grunted to
their knees and crawled blindly until they found the service
counter. Xanthus’ holo-glasses clicked, flashing two red lights. He
reentered the world of Magicgeddon.
    “Careful, Haley,” Tim said. “The
counter’s right here. Just ten feet in front of you.”
    “I know that’s not your hand touching
mine,” Haley warned.
    “No,” Tim cleared his throat. “No. My
hand is not touching yours.”
    Nick heard those familiar motherly
sounds of purse straps and flats. “Hey, Caroline.”
    “Hungry?” Caroline said. Nick’s eyes
adjusted enough to see