Winter Knights by Harper Fox

Author:Harper Fox [Fox, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-20T01:30:40+00:00

Chapter Seven

Christmas morning in a Northumbrian village. I stood at the window and looked out. I was shivering slightly despite the blanket I'd wrapped round myself. The beautiful stained glass kept in no heat, but my chills weren't down to that. I folded my arms, pulling the blanket tighter. Across the street, Gwen's green Morris was parked up. There was no sign of Gwen. Piers was asleep in the driver's seat.

Asleep or maybe dead of hypothermia. I'd woken, despite my incandescent night, full of loneliness and fear, the sense of my own limitless power to hurt and do harm. Art and Lance had been sleeping so soundly I couldn't even hear them breathe. In the night they'd found their way back into one another's arms, though one of them--both, probably--had taken time to tuck the duvet round me. I'd left them brow to brow, their dreams like interlocking shadows in the room, more real than I felt to myself. In the living room, the fire had died. And clearly I'd been tripping out the night before--the immortal carpet, with its heraldic bestiary, was just an ordinary rug, the kind of thing a landlord would put down for a short-term tenant.

I'd never seen a street so deserted. Christmas morning was the only time of the year when traffic had quit rumbling outside my childhood home, and I'd loved the brief hush--festive magic being otherwise in short supply--but this was different. No kids were tumbling out to play with new bikes, no lights coming on behind the windows.

"Gavin."

I jumped so hard I almost pitched through the glass. I turned round to see Art behind me, tousled and handsome in his dressing gown. "I didn't hear you," I said unnecessarily. "He's... He's out there. Piers."

Art moved to look past my shoulder. He nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Of course he is. Good."

"It's not good. What if he's... What if he got too cold out there and--"

"Oh my God." Art broke into laughter. "You're full of happy thoughts this morning, aren't you? Take it from a rescue man--he's fine. I can see him breathing."

I looked again. So could I, now. "Sorry. I think I woke up with the creeps."

"Charming."

His voice was still rippled with amusement. Slowly my sleep-addled brain caught up and I smiled in my turn. "Funny."

"You are." He lifted a hand as if to touch my shoulder then withdrew it. He took a careful step back. "You're funny. You're sweet when you're not being bitter, and you're a terrific lay." I opened my mouth to respond to this forthright assessment, but he didn't give me time. "Why aren't you out there reminding him about all that?"

"He doesn't want to know. Gwen's worth ten of me. I'll go to his wedding. Be Uncle Gavin to his kids, if he'll let me near them. Besides, I...don't seem to have any clothes."

"Oh. Right, yes. Lance washed them through for you last night--they should be dry by now."

"He didn't have to do that."

"He wanted to. He likes to look after people.

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