Free Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) by Freda Warrington Page A

secrecy?”
    “Then I won’t tell you,” Stevie answered with a smile. “I’ll contact you with a passphrase. I’ll phone up and say … ‘Humphrey has landed.’”
    She laughed. “Then my dog’s name would be the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”
    As she showed Stevie to the door, the mood between them was subdued, laced with pain. Frances said, “So you will let me know if there’s any news?”
    “Yes, of course. I’ll come back anyway, to make sure you’re all right.”
    Frances took Stevie’s forearm in a bony grip. “Thank you.” She held on for a moment. “Trust, Stephanie. I only deal in facts; I don’t know what to do with ‘maybe’s. Promise you’ll be straight with me from now on.”
    Stevie’s breath stilled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    “You weren’t always in the past.”
    “We barely knew each other.”
    Frances’s lips thinned. “Just promise. I must be able to trust you.”
    “You can. I promise.”
    *   *   *
    The museum was quiet when Stevie arrived. Two visitors were leaving with gift bags full of souvenirs or jewelry. Ron, sweeping the floors, raised a hand to greet her. There was no one manning the counter, but Stevie found the door to the back office open.
    “Fin, I’m back! No dents in your car! I’ve had a very strange day. How was yours?”
    Fin didn’t answer. Stevie entered the office, saw her assistant’s dark head bent towards the computer screen.
    “Nutcases!” Fin exclaimed, making her start.
    She leaned over Fin’s shoulder and saw a busy website with news stories down the center, ad banners flashing at the sides.
    “That doesn’t look like a spreadsheet,” said Stevie.
    “I’ve finished the figures,” said Fin. “Checked our email, got distracted by the news headlines.”
    “Who are the nutcases?”
    Fin waved a contemptuous hand at the screen. “It’s a summary of all this year’s natural disasters. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis and so on. And they’ve included a statement by some idiot claiming that it’s divine punishment on the human race!”
    “For what?”
    “Oh, the usual. For being gay, following the wrong religion, listening to the wrong music or daring to have some harmless fun.” Fin gave an exasperated huff. “You’d think that ten minutes of scientific education would teach these crazies that it’s nature, weather systems, the Earth’s crust shifting around. But no.” She threw her hands in the air. “Earthquakes are caused by human sin!”
    Stevie grimaced. “Maybe they’re being ironic.”
    “Nah. It’s only irony if it’s funny.”
    “Can I draw your attention to about a hundred comments underneath agreeing with you?” Stevie smiled, glad to be distracted by Fin’s righteous indignation.
    “Yes, thank goodness. I was going to add one, but I don’t think all the effing and blinding would have got past the moderator.” Fin closed the site. “You need the computer?”
    “No, you can shut it down,” said Stevie. “While we’re quiet, I want to put Daniel’s artwork on display. By the way, where’s Alec?”
    “Ah.” Fin pulled a face. “He went home early in a huff. Don’t know how to tell you this, but he’s managed to burn out the motor on your bench lathe.”
    “Oh, great. Never mind, I’ll sort it.”
    “The thing is, though, he tried to blame it on you.”
    Stevie’s mouth fell open. “How is it my fault?”
    “He was grumbling a load of rubbish about women damaging delicate equipment because they don’t know what they’re doing.”
    “ What? Alec’s the one who punishes the tools, my tools, and I haven’t even touched the lathe in three months, because he’s always on it. The nerve!”
    “I know,” said Fin. “So I gave him both barrels, and he went home in a huge grump. Sorry, I’m not diplomatic like you.”
    “Fantastic.” Stevie pulled off her scarf, shook out her damp hair. “Never mind. If Alec doesn’t come back, we’ll cope—but he will. He