by Sonya Clark
Someone knocked on his office door. “I’m on the balcony,” he called out.
Sanngrid appeared in the narrow balcony door. “It’s freezing.”
“I like it,” he said. “Feels good.”
“You’re not normal.” She ducked back into the office and returned with a glass in her hand. “Why’d you leave the party early?”
He poured liquor into her glass. “I don’t like parties.”
She took a sip and grinned behind the glass. “I thought maybe it was seeing Eve flirt with George. Or was it her dancing with Chet that sent you running”
He tried not to glare and failed. “Nothing sent me running. I chose to leave. There’s a difference.”
Sanngrid rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Bettine only let her have the one dance anyway. Besides, Eve’s not his type.”
“Yeah, Chet does seem to prefer dangerous women.” He gave Sanngrid a sidelong glance. “Got a real Bond girl fetish.”
Red stained her pale cheeks. “I never should have told you he made a pass at me once. That was a long time ago.”
“Moneypenny.”
“Shut up.” She punched his arm. “You’re just trying to change the subject.”
Pete rubbed his arm. “That hurt. Hell yeah, I’m trying to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about Eve.”
Sanngrid grabbed the bottle and topped off both their glasses. “Fine. I’ll talk, you listen.”
“Give me a break.”
“I’m doing you the courtesy of having this conversation in private, so shut up and listen. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing with Eve. The back and forth, the hot and cold. You need to make up your mind.”
Pete followed a stream of color flying through the trees. Must have been at least half a dozen pixies. “I know.”
“She likes you but she’s not going to wait forever. She may be a nice girl, but she’s no doormat. You keep acting like an ass, she’ll find someone who can do better.”
“I know that, too.” He drew the cold to him, where it mingled with the magic in his blood. It wasn’t simply winter cold, it was Winter. Close to the gate and spreading its energy into the mundane world. Even after all this time, there was a familiarity to it. It settled easily inside him, like a curled up cat returned home after a long walkabout. He’d been at ease in all the Courts of Sideways but Winter…Winter had felt like home.
“Whatever it is that’s holding you back,” Sanngrid said. “Let it go.” She took a long drink. “We don’t always get second chances.”
Pete studied his best friend for a long moment, wondering what she wanted a second chance with. Or who.
Chapter 6
Pete tightened the knot in his tie, then loosened it when breathing became a problem. Maybe he should change it to something a bit less somber, a little more colorful than dark blue. Perhaps he should shave as well. The beard made him look scruffy. It also made him look older and meaner, so he kept it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared what he looked like. Sometime in his early twenties, maybe? Definitely sometime before. He gave himself the finger in the mirror and left the bathroom.
At least his hair looked good. He pulled on his suit jacket and checked his gun one last time before leaving. Not that he would need it with what he was planning to do, but it did give him an odd sort of comfort.
He never should have kissed her. It had been a huge lapse in judgment on his part. So was what he intended to do today. If she had any sense, she’d slam the door in his face.
But he hoped she didn’t. He really, really hoped she didn’t. It had been too long since he’d hoped for anything.
Five minutes later he was standing outside Eve’s door, fist raised and ready to knock. He continued to stand there for another minute, then another, finally lowering his arm in defeat. A door opened down the hall. Frances left her apartment with MacGuffin in tow. She nodded in greeting while stifling a yawn. Pausing next to Pete, she banged on Eve’s door. “Mac and I are leaving and Pete’s standing outside your door looking pitiful!”
“What? Why did you say that?”
“Just helping you out there, big guy.” She slapped him on the back of the shoulder. “Come on, Mac.” They left.
The doorknob rattled. If he ran at top speed he might make it outside before Eve opened the door. Then it was too late.
She stood framed in the doorway wearing jeans and a black cardigan. Her blonde hair fell long and loose. “So which version of Pete are you right now?”
He had to stop himself from scowling. He knew full well he deserved her ire. “I’m going into town. Thought you might like to come with me.”
“Why would I want to do that?” There was just enough promise in her voice to make him take half a step forward.
“Because I’m picking up your Yule present. And I thought we could get coffee.”
She slid her gaze to the floor and was silent for far too long to suit him. Finally she said, “A version of Pete that gives me presents and takes me out for coffee? That might be a side of you I like.”
Pete swallowed a lump of nerves. “Don’t get too excited. The present is something useful and I’m taking you to the cheaper, less trendy coffee shop.”
A hesitant smile dawned on her face. “It’s a start. Let me get my coat.”
Something glowed warm and bright in his chest. It might have been happiness, if he’d remembered what that felt like.
***
Wayfaring looked like a perfect picture postcard, with tree-lined streets, tidy little houses, and a quaint downtown. Eve had explored all of downtown with Franny and Chet, enjoying the antique stores, gift shops, and the small but well-stocked library. Pete drove past all of that and took a side road to a part of Wayfaring that Eve had never seen. He parked in a gravel lot outside an old brick building that looked like it used to a be a factory of some sort. She zipped her coat and followed Pete to the entrance, deciding to keep a lid on her questions.
The sign above the door read Rowdon Metal Arts. Inside it was warm as summer and humid. The front room was a large open space dotted with metal sculptures of various sizes. Eve stepped through the showroom carefully, examining everything. There was a metal tiger, mouth open and full of pointy fangs. A locomotive about twice the size of a child’s train set. A black wrought iron holiday tree with copper and steel ornaments.
Pete made his way to the back of the room and rang a bell that sat on the counter next to a register. Within moments a man appeared from the back, wiping his hands on a towel. The man was medium height but powerfully built, broad through the chest and shoulders. Black hair shot through with gray fell in waves to his shoulders and a heavy beard covered his face.
“Ay, Peter, good to see you.” He unlocked a cabinet, withdrew a small black velvet box, and placed it on the counter. “Is that your lady friend?”
Eve approached the counter and extended her hand. “Eve Kane.”
He gripped her hand carefully. “Conall Rowdon. Pleased to meet another of the Bradbury folk.” Rowdon spoke with a faint accent that might have been Irish or Scottish, Eve couldn’t tell.
Pete said, “Rowdon is not only a gifted sculptor, he’s a fine weapons craftsman as well. Made Sanngrid’s favorite knife.”
Rowdon grinned. “She still sleep with it under her pillow?”
“I believe she does,” Pete said. To Eve he said, “She named it Elvis because of the jewels he worked into the hilt. Said it reminded her of the jumpsuits Elvis wore in the seventies.”
In the many weekend afternoons Eve had spent in Wayfaring with Franny or Chet or visiting Jean-Pierre and his wife, no one had ever mentioned there was anyone in town who knew the truth about Bradbury. How many other townsfolk knew? She’d have to remember to ask about that.
She pointed at the box and said, “Is that for me?”
Pete snatched up the box and tucked it into a pocket. “Thank you, Rowdon. Happy Yule.” They shook hands.
Rowdon plu
cked a candy cane from a jar on the other side of the register and held it out to Eve. “Happy Yule, Miss Kane.”
She took the candy and returned the salutation. Pete led her back out through the maze of sculptures. As they passed the large metal tiger Eve thought she saw a glimmer of movement. A heaviness pressed against her senses, the kind of sensation she had begun to associate with magic. For a moment she considered removing her gloves and reading the sculpture but Pete already had the door opened.
Once back in the car she said, “When do I get my present?”
He gave her the box. She held it in her palm, trying to get a sense of it. Nothing came. Pete ran his hands over the steering wheel, radiating nervous energy. The temptation to run her fingers through his hair or some other small touch was great, just to see if she could calm him. It might just as easily spook him so she refrained.
She opened the box, moving tissue paper out of the way. It held a heavy, dark metal bracelet covered with intricate carvings of Celtic knot work, vines, and a single apple opposite the clasp. “Pete, this is amazing!” She examined it closer, letting the box fall to the floorboard. “You said you got me something useful. I didn’t expect jewelry.”
“It’s both.” He indicated the bracelet. “May I?”
Eve placed the bracelet in his hand and held out her left wrist. His fingers skimming the outer edge of her hand, he draped the bracelet around her wrist and closed the clasp. She made to withdraw her hand but he held it, holding the palm of his other hand over the clasp. Blue silver light flashed in his eyes as magic swirled between them, twining around the metal and sliding into her skin. She gasped as heat rocketed through her nervous system.
“What was that?”
“A protective spell. The bracelet is bound to you now and it’ll help protect you from certain things.” He laced his fingers with hers. To her it seemed an unconscious gesture, one she didn’t want to draw attention to in case doing so made him pull away.
“What things?”
“Things from Sideways. Full blood Sidhe and faeries.” He ran his thumb over the bracelet. “It’s made of cold iron. Working with cold iron is a specialty of Rowdon’s.”
“It won’t bother Maura and the others, will it? If they come in contact with it?”
“Halflings are immune. That’s why it’s easier for them to live on this side than it is full bloods.”
Even after these months at Bradbury there was still so much she didn’t know. Questions tumbled through her brain like rocks down a hill - about Rowdon and any others in town who knew about Bradbury, about why Pete felt she needed protection from creatures from Sideways. Instead she asked something she knew he might not answer. “Everyone says you never did magic until recently.” Until she arrived, but Eve didn’t say that. “That you believe it’s dangerous for you to use magic. But you do it for me. Why?”
Pete leaned closer. Sparks of silver brightened his dark blue eyes. A faint smile curled the edges of his mouth. “There was discussion of coffee.”
Apparently there wouldn’t be discussion of anything else. That was okay by Eve. One step at a time. “Yes, there was. A peppermint mocha would be excellent right now.”
“Two peppermint mochas, coming right up.” Pete drew her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the knuckles. Tiny shivers of pleasure raced from the skin his lips touched to the rest of her body. Then he turned her hand over, lips pressing against her palm, the tip of his tongue a quick tease. Those tiny shivers burst into flames more intense than the magic of moments earlier. She forced herself to stay still, to stay calm, to not climb into his lap. He said, “That’ll hit the spot, won’t it?”
Not sure if he was talking about coffee or something else, Eve squeaked out an unintelligible reply.
***
Chet was halfway to his table in the Oracle, carrying a plate stacked high with pancakes, when Rami came flying into the room so fast they almost collided. “Whoa, buddy, where’s the fire?”
“We got a big freaking problem.” The wizard wore a Mario t-shirt and flannel Darth Vader pants, his hair in disarray. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, which wasn’t a surprise. The institute was on holiday schedule until after the new year, which meant there was no schedule.
What bothered Chet was the thin fibers resembling spider web that hung from Rami’s hair, covering one ear. Traces of it clung to the wizard’s face as well.
Bettine approached, a steaming cup in each hand. “Is that gossamer on you, Rami?”
“Yes,” he said, shaking with agitation. “And I woke up screaming like a two year old from an ungodly nightmare.”
“Shit.” Chet had been looking forward to a relaxing holiday. Chasing a goblin that specialized in inducing sleep and weaving horrific nightmares was not on the list of things he wanted to be doing. “I’ll go tell Judith something slipped across with George.”
This did not bode well for a peaceful Yule.
Chapter 7
Despite Pete’s joke, there was only one coffee shop in Wayfaring. The Bean Bag was full of teenagers out of school for winter break and stay-at-home moms with small children out doing holiday shopping. They were lucky to get a small table tucked away in a back corner. Eve wondered if Pete used a little Jedi mind control to get that table. He let her take care of ordering their mochas and seemed content to wait for her to guide the conversation as well.
The trouble was, Eve could barely think. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of inappropriate questions popped into her head but she gave voice to none of them. Catching sight of the cold iron bracelet as it slipped past the bottom of her sleeve, she finally thought of what was hopefully a safe topic.
She held up her wrist for a moment. “I’m not getting anything from it. Well, I think I’m sort of getting something that feels like an echo of the spell you did, but that’s it.” Winter-cold but not unpleasant, like a still, snow-filled night. There was also an undercurrent of something else, something wild and dangerous. It was a familiar sensation but she couldn’t think of when she’d felt it before.
“Rowdon is expert at shielding. He has to be, making weapons and things like this, of a protective nature. Those are things that should have a bond with the person they belong to so you don’t want too much leftover energy from the maker. I helped a bit too. Did a spell to sort of purify the cold iron.”
“Did he happen to have this on a shelf?” With the apple that was carved into it, she doubted that was the case.
The waiter arrived with their mochas, giving Pete a chance to dodge the question. They sat in silence for several minutes. Eve drank her coffee while Pete’s gaze skipped all over the room, always coming back to her. It should have felt uncomfortable but for some reason it didn’t. She knew he would speak when he had something to say, and he seemed content to let her do the same.
In fact, content summed up his mood very well. He’d been nervous earlier but now he was relaxed and loose-limbed sitting back in his chair. There was no hint of a scowl or a squint on his face. He sipped leisurely, one finger tapping the rim of the mug in time with the cheerful Christmas music.
When he finally broke the silence between them it took her a moment to realize he’d spoken. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What kind of movies do you like?”
She’d been in his apartment once, on her first day at the institute. She’d fainted after touching one of the stone gargoyles and he’d swooped in and carried her to his place while she was unconscious. Waking up in his bed had been disorienting at the time. The thought of possibly doing so again sent flashes of heat through her. Clearing her throat, she pushed those thoughts away and focused on his question.
Movies. The living room of his place had a book case full of DVDs and Blu-rays, so Pete liked movies. What kind did she like? She’d never thought about it. “I don’t know. No particular genre, just a good story, I guess. What about you?”
“Darker stuff usually, character studies. Classic storytelling. Seems like I’ve been wat
ching a lot of older movies these days.” He sipped his coffee.
“Got a favorite?”
“Ever seen the original version of The Thomas Crown Affair?”
“I didn’t know it was a remake.”
Pete nodded. “Yeah, the remake is really good too, in some ways maybe even a little better, plot-wise. The original is Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway. There’s a scene in it that’s too good to ever be topped. For that scene alone it’s one of my favorites.”
Eve leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me about it.”
The right side of his mouth twitched. He placed his cup on the table, then rested one hand on the window ledge. “They play chess. Except not really. They’re fully clothed, don’t speak or even touch until the end of the scene, but there’s so much going on with their eyes. With their body language. It’s a seduction, and it’s ten times hotter than anything explicit.” He held her gaze while he spoke, faint silver shimmering in their dark blue depths. “Dunaway is stunning, just really beautiful. And McQueen, hell, when I first saw his movies when I was a kid I wanted to be like him when I grew up.”
“Sounds like a good movie.”
“You should come over and watch it with me sometime.”
Nothing in his voice made it sound like anything but a casual invitation. His demeanor was still relaxed, almost open. Eve would have thought nothing of it except for the flush of warm energy that wrapped around her head to toe, a tease that matched the upticked corner of his mouth. It fanned across her nerve endings, spreading a feather-light pleasure through her.
Oh. Em. Gee. “Uh, sure.”
In addition to learning more about reading objects Eve had also begun to study projecting energy. She’d done this quietly, finding books read on the subject in the Archive and working with Jean-Pierre. Still in the early stages of exploring what she could do, Eve hadn’t discussed it openly yet. Pete had no idea. He would surely be surprised if she was able to send some of that warm sensual energy back to him. Letting her eyes unfocus, she concentrated on the sensation, willing it to expand and reach back to him in a slow languid stroke.
