Page 53 of Sequel to the Easter Bunny

“Nothing our maintenance staff can’t handle.”

With a nod, I turn back for the door. “Who has access to these pumps?”

“Just me and one of my senior technicians. Everyone else needs clearance and a key card to get in here.”

And yet, someone made it inside. “Where are the key cards?”

“My office or Monty’s.”

“If getting your hands on one of those is all it takes, clearance doesn’t really matter.”

When Candice steps through and shuts the heavy door behind her, I take hold of the knob, and lock it with a pulse of the Power.

There’s no better key than the one I’ve just created, but I can’t be the one to hold it.

“Give me your hand.”

“My hand?” Candice pales.

I nod, holding mine out, waiting.

I hate that hers shakes when she finally takes it.

“This facility is yours to care for and look after. The people of this Valley rely on it, probably more than they do me right now. You are the one who is its caretaker.” There is no incantation necessary. I think it, and a little pulse of Power pushes between us, “And now, no one can access this room unless you personally give them permission.”

When I let go of her, the woman stares at her hand her body seemingly frozen. “You don’t share Power.”

“I am not Jamus.” I loathe saying his name. “And that isn’t Power. It’s control. There’s a difference.”

However small in this instance

“Is your tech here?”

She nods and then calls them on the radio. When they get to us, they’re grumbling… at least until they see me and then they freeze.

I gather my presence has made its way through the rumour mill.

I repeat the process with them, and then leave as quickly as I can. People have started to creep out from their workspaces to stare.

As soon as we’re in the fresh air again, I let myself relax.

Ari hooks her arm in mine and pulls me close to her side as we walk to the car. “See, look at you, making friends and changing minds already.”

“One at a time is going to take forever.”

“You’re forgetting: people talk. There’s nothing quite so perfect as whispers to get your message out into the world.

“What message is that?”

“You told her yourself.” She offers me a smile that should probably scare me. “You’re not Jamus.”

A Great & Terrible Racket

The music store is cute.

Stuffed in between two other buildings, it looks like it’s been jockeying for shoulder room for a century.

The stone facade is covered in moss and trailing vines, and the window has brightly painted script advertising its wares.

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