Fat, wet snowflakes mixed with rain splatted on the truck’s windshield, and the wipers squeaked. Casey slowed carefully to negotiate a narrow, twisty section of road. Ice wouldn’t be a problem for a few more hours, but hydroplaning in a puddle could end just as badly.

  This day felt like one of the longest of Casey’s life. He’d left the hospital around eleven, after Avery had drifted off into a muttering, restless sleep. Seven hours later, he was just now pulling into the shop’s parking lot. An accident had stopped traffic on a remote stretch of the Beeline Highway for a very long time, and then he’d detoured to his brother’s place to check on the cats.

  Only Shana’s Jeep sat out in front of the shop, and he backed into the spot next to it. This close to the end of the day, and with bad weather coming, she would have sent the rest of the staff home. The snow melted in his hair as Casey hurried to the door, and the icy wind stung his cheeks.

  He entered the shop, turned the sign in the window to “Closed,” and threw the deadbolt just as a harsh gust rattled peppercorn-sized sleet against the glass. The weather was officially in the ‘all forms of precipitation at once’ mode that often preceded major Rim Country storms. He thought it would quickly turn entirely to snow as the temperature dropped more with every new blast of wind.

  Shana stuck her head out of the back office and said, “Hey boss, I was starting to worry.”

  “Bad accident at Slate Creek. Gas tanker versus hay truck. I think I could have gotten home faster on foot.”

  “Another one?” was Shana’s only comment. That stretch of road, where the Beeline Highway wound through a narrow canyon, always had dramatic wrecks. It wasn’t even the first gas tanker fire this month. Once traffic stopped, there was no way around it either, so a wreck meant being stuck until it was cleared.

  He just nodded. He was so tired that words seemed difficult.

  "Avery’s been texting me all afternoon," she said, "Something about Simon coming through a magical portal and attacking everyone in sight with a sword?"

  "Avery was as high as a kite when I saw him last." This was entirely true, if not the full story. He hoped she’d forgive him for the omission if the complete truth came out.

  "He also said Little Fuzzy was chasing his IV tubing and wouldn't purr, so he was flying. Simon doesn’t exactly strike me as a threat.”

  “I’m not worried about Simon." Even without the geas, he didn’t think Simon would hurt anyone without extreme levels of provocation.

  "How are doing?" Shana was studying him with knowing eyes.

  "Tired," he confessed. "I got two hours of sleep."

  "Shit, man. Go crash. I'll close up."

  He ran a hand over his face and yawned under his fingers. "Sounds like a plan. Need anything before I go?"

  "It's all handled. Go to bed before you fall asleep on your feet."

  ~~*~~

  When he entered, his apartment was dark and silent. Simon was buried under Casey's covers, with only his white-blond hair visible. He was so still that Casey watched a moment to ensure he was breathing. Then, as quietly as possible, padded into the kitchen. A plate and cup were in the strainer, and he discovered half of a huge burrito, neatly folded back into its paper wrapper, sitting on a plate in the fridge. At some point, Simon had woken, and one of his staff had fed him.

  Casey stared at the contents of his fridge for a long moment, decided that making a sandwich was too complicated, and settled on a glass of milk for dinner. While he was chugging the milk, there was a soft sound from the bedroom, then a wary, "Casey? Is that you?"

  He hadn’t been quiet enough. "Yeah, Simon. It’s just me. Do you need anything?"

  Simon answered in the negative, and he still sounded half asleep. Casey, hoping the elf would get some rest but unwilling to say anything that might influence his decisions, simply sat down on the couch and pulled out his cell phone. He hadn't checked his email and social media in almost a full day.

  He should make a post or two, if only to reassure everyone that Avery was alive and doing well. Somehow, he found the energy to pull Facebook up on his phone.

  He quickly discovered that Avery was giving his own status updates. Casey was relieved to see no mention of a sword-wielding elf in posts. Avery’s replies were also bright, bubbly, and full of far more typos and emojis than usual.

  A few moments later, Facebook Messenger rang at him with an incoming video call from the man himself. Casey answered it quickly. “Hey, you! Did you ever get Fuzzy to purr?”

  "Very funny.” Avery’s expression held no trace of amusement. "Shana says the elf is upstairs with you right now. Casey, I know what I saw—"

  "You sober?" He interrupted. He wasn’t having this discussion with Avery if he was still tripping balls on morphine. Something in the man’s cadence indicated his mental state was at least a little altered.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  "Sober-ish!”

  Avery’s response did not inspire confidence. Casey said in the most reasonable tone he could muster, "Avery, Simon was terrified, and you tried to brain him with a chair. He was defending himself.”

  “He’s right behind you!” Avery half-shouted.

  Casey twisted around on the couch and glanced over his shoulder. “Hi Simon.”

  Simon stared, open-mouthed, at the phone in Casey’s hand. His eyes narrowed. “Not magic?”

  “Hah, no.” That had been a joke from the elf, delivered with a completely straight face. Casey was absolutely delighted to discover the man really did have a sense of humor.

  Avery scowled, then held the camera closer to his face. Casey guessed that the hospital had taken his contacts out at some point, and he was having trouble seeing. They had a fabulous view of his nose, cheek, and one blue eye. “Hurt Casey, and it won't be a chair I use next time."

  "I understand." Simon took a step closer, peering over Casey's shoulder at the phone. His focus on the device was so intense that Casey thought the elf looked like a nervous cat. He resisted the temptation to go, 'psst!' at him just to see him jump three feet in the air.

  The disapproving expression on the half of Avery’s face that they could see intensified.

  "Avery," Casey said sharply. "Do you trust me?"

  "That's a dumb question. Of course I do."

  "Do you trust my mojo?"

  Avery set his phone down, and the camera displayed the hospital room ceiling for several seconds. There was an explosive, frustrated sigh before he picked it back up and angled it at his face. They were back to one eyeball and a chiseled cheekbone again. Casey resisted the urge to lie and tell him he had a zit, just to defuse the tension with a bit of teasing.

  Avery said, "Your gift says he’s harmless or some shit like that, and I’m supposed to believe it?”

  "Simon's not harmless, but neither are you. I trust him, and my record on reading people is pretty close to perfect. When the cops come to talk to you, and they will, can you do me a favor and tell them—"

  "Tell them nothing, yeah, yeah, already done. They just left. I said I tripped and fell on the sword." Avery sounded genuinely irritated. "Mutual combat could get me an assault charge. I'm not Casey."

  "I mean, you were the one who brought a chair to a sword fight."

  Avery aimed his middle finger at the camera.

  "If it helps you feel better, I'm going to try to send Simon home tomorrow.”

  "Is that dangerous?"

  "It wasn't unsafe the first time, so I don't think so." Casey glanced back at Simon, wondering what Simon’s opinion was. Simon’s expression was unreadable.

  "Safe? You summoned a short and stabby elf."

  Simon made a very brief noise that might have been a laugh if it had been accompanied by a smile and replied, "I shall remember that description. It's a fine compliment.”

  "Well, you can obviously still skewer people even if you need a step stool to reach the top shelf in the kitchen." The faintest hint of a smile touched Avery’s lips.

  "I salute your powers of observation.”

  It was Avery's turn to laugh, very briefly. It clearly hurt because he gasped and breathed shallowly for a moment. "Fine. Whatever. Casey, Don't, like, open a hellmouth in the basement. Demons running amok would be bad for business."

  "Simon," Casey said, with a slow grin, "You think a geas would work on demons? We could put them to work."

  Simon considered the question with his head tilted to one side. Still deadpan, he said, "Many demons have masochistic tendencies, which means that the punishment of a geas encourages undesirable behavior. They do not make good servants.”

  Avery said, "That's funny... Geas? Really?

  The full details of the spell felt like something better discussed in person, when Avery was better than ‘sober-ish’ and could contribute some real insight. Casey demurred, "Hey, it was fabulous hearing from you, but you should get some rest."

  Avery rolled his eyes and pulled the phone back a bit, likely so they could see the entirety of his unamused expression. His social media skills were excellent, and it would be exactly like him to think of something like that, even when high. "What are you not telling me, CeeCee?"

  "All kinds of things, and you know it. I'm also fucking exhausted."

  "Ooh, mysterious," Avery said this with a smile, but the set of his mouth said he was annoyed.

  After Casey ended the call, Simon said quietly, "That is an incredible device."

  “Yeah. They’re also addictive as hell and the root of many evils. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” Casey yawned uncontrollably. "I’m turning in early. How are you feeling? You can have the bed if you want; I’ll take the couch.”

  "I don't believe my nerves will allow me to sleep tonight. Any sound, any movement, and I jerk back awake. You could order me to sleep if you do not wish me to remain awake."

  "What do you want?" He truly hated the thought of forcing Simon to do anything.

  "I'll only have one chance to witness your world. I'd like to watch the vehicles pass by and perhaps read a book." Simon's eyes narrowed as he said this, as if even merely expressing his wishes cost him punishment from the geas.

  "That's fine, but I might have something else that you'll enjoy." Casey yawned again, stood up, and padded into his bedroom. There was an old tablet in a box in his closet. He found a charging cable, plugged it in, and turned the device on. Simon, mouth slightly parted, watched in awe as Casey gave him a quick crash course in navigation and then showed him how to search for terms on YouTube, Google, and Wikipedia.

  Simon was a startlingly fast learner. He wondered just intelligent the man was.

  There was a somewhat sizable off-grid cult in the area. They habitually cast young men out once they hit their late teens. The Junk Shop accepted paper applications, and the local social workers knew he liked giving people a hand up, so a few scared-looking former cult kids stammered their way through an interview with Avery every year. The ones who didn’t start hissing and throwing holy water at him usually got a job, and it meant Casey had worked with completely technologically illiterate people before.

  Simon had picked up basic internet navigation faster than most grasped operating a cash register.

  Casey offered, "If you’d like, you can take the tablet with you. It won’t work the same without an internet connection, but you can save some articles. I’ll show you how. Plus, you’d need a solar panel to charge it, but I’ve got several little ones around here somewhere."

  "Should this device be found in my possession, they would think I performed blood magic and bound souls to it. I must decline.” Saying no to the offer cost him so much pain that he went white and swayed for a second.

  “Sorry.”

  “Do not apologize. Your generosity was well-intentioned.” Hands as careful as if he'd been offered a device made of the finest crystal, he took the tablet from Casey's hands. "Casey, even a few hours with this device is a gift."

  "Enjoy, then."

  Simon settled down on the couch, where he had a view out the window, and began hunting-and-pecking terms into the Wikipedia search box. Had Casey not been so painfully tired, he might have peered over Simon’s shoulder as he worked. What would a man from a far more primitive world choose to look up?

  He stumbled into the bedroom instead and flopped down face-first on top of the covers without even bothering to undress. Sleep came swiftly.