Page 37 of Guarded By the Krampus

Sylas swore up and down he’d have the lobby cleaned before theactualcleaning people came and had a heart attack—and he had a confession for me before he left to manage it, pulling me aside as Sarah and Nex discussed the best ways to decontaminate the roof. “There is a slight chance that I, as the humans say, ‘owe you one’.”

“Nonsense. I only did what any other MSA agent would do up there,” I said, assuming he meant my moment of heroism on the antenna, when I was left exposed.

“Hmm? No, not that—I mean, of course you would’ve,” he said. “But no, I mean more in relation to you never telling my wife that Lucian and I were here.”

It was hard not to burst out laughing. “Serenatoldme to tell you to ask her for permission! And I did!”

Sylas made a disgruntled sound. “Well, we were hungry, and this time of year is strange, isn’t it? All good feelings and cheer? I find myself disliking it.”

I reached out and clapped his shadowy shoulder, careful not to fall through him. “Me too, man,” I said, before catching sightof Sarah. “I mean, up until about four and a half days ago. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good,” the Nightmare said. Then he opened up a portal to another place and disappeared, as Sarah returned to my side, beaming.

“Well?” I asked her.

“It worked—or rather, it’s working—multiple news outlets are reporting on the list now!”

“Worldwide,” Nex added.

“And here I thought you all were discussing plastique removal,” I teased. “But really, Sarah—that’s amazing!” I said, feeling stupid, until she threw herself into my arms and agreed.

“It is! It really is!” she said, as I lifted her up and spun her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” I asked Nex, as Sarah and I walked through the lobby, relieved to discover that Sylas had taken down all the intestines, true to his word. “I mean, won’t you get into trouble?” I asked him. “He won’t turn you off, will he? I can’t be losing my CoD buddy.”

“Royce will be here in approximately fifteen minutes, and, while I am not human, I suspect it will be easier for me to explain my illicit use of MSA resources if you are not.”

I let go a held breath. “All right then. And if he works himself up, remind him my holiday technically has three days left, and I’m within my contractual rights to go offline.”

“Bye, Nex—it was lovely to meet you,” Sarah said, with a wave, as we exited the lobby, and then to me she said, “I hope you don’t mind I summoned us a ride,” as an Escalade pulled up.

“Can’t lie, I’m a little bummed, I wanted you to have to snuggle near me to keep warm while we waited.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “We can still snuggle in the back seat.”

We drove back to her jet by mutual decision—I had a toothbrush there, she didn’t have one at my place, and her sheets were nicer. Plus it would be easier to hole up and hide out there, if we needed to get away—there would likely be repercussions, good and bad, for the information she’d unleashed. Reporters wanting stories, criminal prosecutors starting cases—and while Sarah wanted to help with all that, and definitely would—this time right now over the holidays, while people processed her information and decided what to do with it, seemed like the only lull we’d have for quite some time.

We ordered pizza to the plane from the concourse—not a thing I knew you could do, prior—and then we watched the news roll in on TV.

“This is going to be insane for awhile,” she said, working on her second slice.

“But—in a good way, right?” I asked, checking in. Because if she needed me to redo this whole past week over again to help her, I would.

Especially the sex parts.

“Yeah,” she said, clicking the television off. “Seems like everyone’s starved for news, and there’s only so much entertainment you can milk out of NORAD’s Santa Cam.”

“So, why’d we need get all this done by Christmas Eve, anyhow?” I asked, after finishing my own piece, and sending my tongue out to lick any remnants of grease or sauce off of my fur.

She turned and gave me a bittersweet smile. “It was my father’s favorite holiday. He decorated the embassy up for it every year. When I was a kid, our Christmas tree seemed like a mile high—and while my mom kept up the work later—I knew it hurt her. So I just wanted to make a big change, and have new and better memories for the day, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing, before standing to offer her my hand. “I’ve got my hand out now, Sarah. Would you…like to come make some memories with me?”

Her head tilted up, showing me her beaming smile, as she put her hand up so I could take it. “Yeah, Ace—let’s.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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