Cold Spell fr-4

by Jackson Pearce

  “It’s complicated. I’ll explain some other time,” I say, reaching forward to add the smallest bit of hot water. My lungs still ache, and as feeling returns to my limbs, I become more and more aware of just how many cuts and bruises I got. I wince, reach down, and tug my socks off, tossing them over the edge of the bathtub alongside my coat.

  “I have a question,” I say slowly as I slide deeper into the water. Kai nods but still doesn’t look at me. “There was a boy in the back of Grandma Dalia’s cookbook. A boy that Mora took from her, the same way she took you. We shot him in Nashville—he died. Do you know what his name was?”

  “Red hair?” Kai asks, voice grim but a little louder—he has to be, to overpower the sound of the Travellers and Lucas arguing over health care. I nod. “His name was Michael,” Kai says as he pulls one knee to his chest, half hugging it. “He was nice. We were… we were brothers. Sort of. When I changed for the first time I was so happy. I was finally perfect; I was one of her guards. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to be everything for her… I loved her,” he says, shaking his head as if he doesn’t understand. His eyes find mine and I see him freeze, as if he realizes what he’s said aloud.

  I look at him for a moment, inhaling slowly. “It’s all right,” I say, and it surprises me to realize how all right it genuinely is. I want him to love me, always me, the way I’ll always love him… but having him back makes me aware of how all right I really was without him, in the end. I reach across the edge of the bathtub and open my palm; he puts his hand in mine.

  “It’s not all right for me,” he says numbly, and I can’t think of a response. Perhaps because I know it’ll take more than kind words to stop that spinning feeling of wrongness, of hurt.

  I watch him for a moment, then rise, creating waves in the bathtub. The others look over from the main room; Flannery reaches into her bag and pulls out a hotel robe I assume she was stealing, tossing it to me. I duck behind the shower curtain, drop my soaked clothes on the floor, and tie the robe tight.

  “Can you feel everything?” Ella asks, looking at me doubtfully. I sit at the top of the bed, tuck my feet into the blankets.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Don’t think we aren’t going to fight about you sneaking out on the drive back,” she jokes.

  “You’re going back with them?” Flannery asks, alarmed.

  “What? I don’t… I don’t know. Can’t I figure that out when I don’t have hypothermia?”

  “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want,” Flannery says quickly. “It’s just, whatever you’re driving—and no offense to you, Ella—it isn’t as great as Wallace.”

  “It’s a private plane,” Ella says, confused about what “Wallace” is.

  “My point exactly,” Flannery answers. Callum laughs under his breath, though, and the sound seems to divert the scowl forming on Flannery’s face. She grins at him. “Anyway,” Flannery continues, looking to Kai, “you’re awfully quiet for the man of the hour.”

  Kai has hardly moved. He’s sitting in the bathroom doorway, as if he doesn’t want to really be in the same room as the rest of us. “Sorry. I just don’t…” he begins, then stops, as if he planned to say more but can’t work out what. He exhales, rises, and walks out of the hotel room, head slung low. Flannery raises her eyebrows toward me; I hurry from the bed and go after him, letting the room door slam accidentally.

  “Kai,” I call out softly, expecting him to be halfway down the hall. I’m surprised when I realize he’s just beside the door, sitting with his back against the wall. The wallpaper is covered in a pattern featuring elk and plants, and the hallway smells like old coffee. I sink down to the floor beside him.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he says quietly, voice broken. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Neither do I,” I say. “But we’ll be fine. All of us. Me, you, them…”

  “You almost died,” he says. “More than once, because of me. Right? I mean, I’m guessing—I don’t even know what happened to you. But you’ve got these… people and stories and you… you’re different now, Ginny, and I missed it.” He sounds crushed—not guilty, but something closer to scared. His voice sounds the way I felt when I saw him in the garden with Mora, when the possibility of him ending our love, our life together, our future, our dreams, was painful and raw.

  “First off, I didn’t die,” I say. “Secondly, I saved the stories. Every one, so I could tell them to you. Before all this, I didn’t know I could survive without you, Kai. And sure, I’ve changed. Now I know… I can make it on my own. But that doesn’t mean I want to. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you.”

  Kai exhales, something of a broken, relieved laugh on his lips, and leans his head back against the wall. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, then turns his head toward me. “Am I remembering right—I killed all the roses?”

  “They might be fine,” I say, shrugging. “They’re tough.”

  He nods, then drops his gaze to where our hands rest on the hotel floor, close to each other but not touching. Kai lifts his fingers, brings them down on mine delicately. “All of them?”

  “I think so,” I say, nodding, and turn my palm over to meet his. We stare down at our hands for a moment, Kai running his thumb across the scar on my left hand, the one that matches his.

  “I wasn’t strong enough for you,” he says, the words falling from his mouth as if they’re the ones he desperately needed to say.

  I shake my head at him. “I didn’t need you to be.”

  “When I said before that I loved her, Ginny, I didn’t mean that I stopped—”

  “I know,” I say. I smile. “I mean, I might have doubted it for a minute there in Nashville. And when I got in a knife fight with you. But I know.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Remind me.”

  “I love you,” he says, eyes hard on mine. In the end it’s always been us, together, but knowing it and hearing it, seeing it, feeling it, are different things. In a single, sweeping motion I pull Kai toward me and find his lips with mine. I kiss him the way I’ve wanted to for weeks, the way I want to forever, our arms around one another, breath hot, heads spinning. It’s hard to pull away, but when I do, I smile, because I know we’ll kiss like that again, and again, and again.

  We sit in the hallway in peaceful silence, curled against each other, until I finally rise and offer a hand to Kai. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “Do they hate me? I mean, since I almost got them killed, too?” he asks, voice weak. He gives me a worried look, as if he knows how silly this sounds yet can’t help but ask.

  “Lucas and Ella don’t hate anybody,” I say. “And the others sort of hate everybody. But not really. Usually.”

  Kai smiles a little, allows me to help him stand, and we go back into the hotel room. The others look up immediately, as if we’re walked in on a conversation. They eye one another as I lead Kai to the edge of the bed, where we both sit down.

  “So… we’re taking bets.” Callum breaks the awkward silence, rolling a coin between his knuckles as he speaks.

  “On?” I ask.

  “Him,” he says, pointing to Kai. “We’re betting on whether or not you’re going to turn into a wolf again.”

  “I’m not sure,” Kai says slowly, glancing at me. “I think… I could. If I wanted to.”

  “I think you could, too,” Flannery says. “I’m positive. Try it.”

  “Quiet, you can’t bait him,” Lucas says, throwing a pen at her. “Against the rules.”

  “I’m just suggesting,” she hisses back.

  The room stares at him, waiting.

  “I’m not going to do it now,” Kai says, rolling his eyes. The Travellers grumble and slowly fish into their pockets, then slap money into Lucas’s outstretched hand. He grins, folds the money, and sticks it in his back pocket.

  “And to think,” Flannery s
ays, folding her arms and glaring at Kai, “I fought a werewolf for you.”

  “Sorry,” Kai says, shrugging. “Maybe I can pay you back for it someday.”

  Flannery snorts and shakes her head. “Not if I can help it.”

  EPILOGUE

  There were plenty of reasons to love the winter.

  Fireplaces. Stews. But most of all—at least, this year, Ginny thought—Christmas.

  Most of the neighborhood houses were covered in pretty but simple decor—candles in windows, wreaths on doors, and perhaps some tasteful white lights on a single tree in the front yard. Lucas and Ella’s house, however, was covered in lights of every color and size. Some blinking, some not; some white, some rainbow-colored; some trees covered in a strand or two, some trees covered in so many that it looked like the entire thing might catch fire. The lights looked out of place on the mansion, but no more so than the VW bus parked in the driveway.

  Ginny pulled the station wagon up beside the van and jumped out, cringing at the temperature. It had been over a year, but there was still always something frightening about the first moment she stepped out into the cold. It passed quickly, of course—this cold was simple, easy. Something that could be ignored or beaten by a decent coat. Ginny inhaled deeply, let the air warm in her lungs, and then walked toward the front door. The house was glowing, and even though Ginny had only been here a handful of times in the past year, it looked—and felt—like home. She lifted a fist and rapped on the door, though there wasn’t much need—someone was already racing from upstairs to open it.

  Flannery’s long dark hair was no longer a tangled, frizzy mess; it was curled neatly into long spirals. Her clothes were new—still mismatched and layered—but her eyes were bright and her grin as wicked as before. Flannery jumped down the last few steps, the impact rattling the framed pictures on the foyer walls. She flung the door open and yanked Ginny inside, hugging her hard.

  “Your hair!” Ginny said when she pulled away.

  Flannery snorted and motioned to her head. “I know, I know. It made Ella really happy to do it so… whatever,” she says.

  “It did make Ella really happy. But Flannery also asked her to do it,” Callum said, walking down the stairs behind Flannery, grinning. Flannery turned around and punched him in the chest hard enough to make Callum cough. “Ginny,” he greeted her, wheezing a recovery.

  “It looks beautiful, Flannery,” Ginny said. “Don’t you like it, Callum?” she added pointedly.

  Callum looked at the two of them as if they were crazy. “Flannery,” he said, shaking his head, “is always beautiful.”

  “Well played,” Flannery admitted, and leaned forward to kiss him quickly. She then turned back to Ginny. “He’s not here yet,” she said, answering the unasked question. “His flight got delayed.”

  “How long?” Ginny asked, and Flannery shrugged.

  “It can’t be more than an hour,” Lucas said, walking out from the living room. “Come on. Ella bought cake and is going to pretend she made it. Play along.”

  “Seriously,” Callum says, nodding. “Play along. There was an incident earlier today. Though I don’t think you can smell the smoke anymore, can you? Or am I just used to it?”

  They walked into the living room; Ginny caught a glimpse at the kitchen, where Ella was hurriedly throwing away a bakery store box. Upon seeing Ginny she rushed into the living room, hugging her so hard they toppled against a leather armchair and dissolved into laughter. They finally settled, Ella and Ginny on the chair and ottoman while Lucas, Flannery, and Callum took up the couch.

  “Tell me something!” Ella said. “Something new.”

  “I talk to you every week,” Ginny reminded her. “There’s nothing new to share.”

  “Come on, there has to be something. Have you thought any more about what you’re going to declare your major as?” Ella asked, tucking her feet underneath her.

  “Still not sure,” Ginny said. “But I took a philosophy class last semester. Maybe that? I might try a few more weird classes, just in case something sticks.”

  “I’m telling you,” Lucas said. “You. Me. Private investigation firm.”

  “She can’t major in ‘private investigator,’ ” Ella argued.

  “I didn’t say she should major in that,” Lucas said. “It’s a post-college business venture. I’m just saying that between Ginny and me, we could find anyone. We tracked down a mythological creature, remember?”

  “Ginny tracked her down, mostly, if I recall,” Ella said, but when Lucas looked offended she poked him with her toes playfully, and he smiled.

  “What about you?” Ginny asked Flannery. “You said this was temporary. Actually, no—if I remember, you said you’d rather be back in jail than spend a week in a buffer house.”

  Even as Lucas and Ella snickered, Flannery blushed, hard, something that looked foreign on her face. “Actually, we’re going back,” Flannery says, glancing over at Callum. “Not because of the house. This house is fantastic. Have you seen how deep the bathtub is?”

  “I seem to remember it,” Ginny said. “When are you going?”

  “A month or so,” she said. “We talked with Ardan and Declan the other day. They say my mother’s crown isn’t exactly secure, since I left. People wonder if she can run a camp, if she can’t run her own daughter. I’m not letting that happen, obviously, so I figure we’ll go back and remind them exactly why the Sherlocks are queens. They might turn us away; they might not. I’m not sure.”

  “Are you going to tell them the truth about Grohkta-Nap?” Ginny asked.

  Callum laughed a little. “Baby steps, Ginny. They’ll come around—they’re good people, smart people. But we’ve got to make them accept an unmarried princess, first.” Despite this, Ginny noticed that he was still wearing his wedding ring, and that Flannery’s was still on a chain around her neck.

  Ginny was about to comment on the rings when someone knocked on the front door. She sat up straight, looking from Ella to Lucas. Flannery arched her back over the couch to spy down the foyer; a grin spread across her face, confirming who had arrived.

  “Go on,” Lucas said. “We’ll be in the kitchen eating cake.”

  “We haven’t eaten dinner!” Ella said.

  “We’re adults. We’re allowed to have cake for dinner,” Lucas answered, rising. They filed into the kitchen while Ginny licked her lips and hurried to the foyer.

  Through the door’s decorative glass, he looked like a collection of features. Dark hair. Gold eyes. Olive skin and an angular, willowy stature, as if he was animated rather than born. He was wearing a coat, though Ginny knew he didn’t need it—Kai didn’t feel the cold now; he hadn’t ever since Mora. Ginny’s face spread into a grin, and she rushed forward and opened the door.

  The cold didn’t have a chance to touch her—Kai moved in first, wrapped his arms around her, and enveloped her, pulling his head to his shoulder, burying his face against her neck. He smelled like cinnamon and soap, and she pushed her full weight into him, until he lifted her from the ground, kissing her temple as he did so.

  “You’re late,” she whispered as he put her down, smiling.

  “Delayed due to ice,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the irony. “But I’m here now.” Ginny rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening to his heart beat as he held her.

  “Maybe I should ditch New York after all. Go back to Portland with you,” he murmured against her hair.

  “You say that every time we’re together, you know. But if you’re expecting me to argue, you’re going to be disappointed,” she said, smiling as she lifted to her toes and drew his lips to hers. Her head flooded with heat as they kissed, and he held her tightly, as if he couldn’t be close enough.

  “You’re missing the cake!” Flannery yelled from the kitchen. They broke away, laughing at the sound of the others shushing Flannery. Kai kissed Ginny’s forehead quickly, and they walked to the kitchen holding hands. The others were sitting at the table a
round a deck of cards that Callum and Flannery were using to teach the other two Widow’s Lover. They greeted Kai enthusiastically; Callum moved over a chair so he and Ginny could sit beside each other while Ella cut him a ridiculously large slice of cake.

  They played for hours—Ella won frequently, since she worked out how to count the cards—and then drifted away one at a time toward bedrooms on the upper floors. Flannery was the last to leave, giving Ginny a wry smile as she flicked the kitchen lights off on her way out of the room. The Christmas lights outside glowed, a sea of color and illumination that shone bright enough to light the way as Ginny and Kai rose and walked to the window to look out over the yard. Kai stood behind Ginny, put his arms around her, and rested his chin on her head.

  Ginny looked down at Kai’s hands and ran her fingers across his knuckles. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” she asked.

  “I know,” he answered. “I’ve always known. Since we were little kids.” He opened his mouth as if he was going to say more, but then he stopped and lifted a hand to point. “Look. It’s snowing.”

  Fat snowflakes, gentle and scattered, barely enough to dust the ground. Ginny could feel Kai tense behind her; she knew what memories were running through his head. She turned and ran her hand along his cheek. He sighed, relaxed, and kissed her palm.

  “Ginny?” he said. “Let’s go to sleep.” She smiled, turned, and took his hand. Together they retreated upstairs, leaving the snow to fall.

  There were plenty of reasons to love the winter, and this moment was one of them.

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