Page 21 of Mistletoe

At least she wasn’t in the dungeon alone.

A single lantern illuminated the sheriff sitting at a rickety table, thumbing through a leatherbound journal. She occasionally paused to make notes in the margins of the pages.

“You still have that old thing?” Emma asked. She recognized it from their school days. Nina always had her nose in the battered book with the fevered intensity of preparing for an exam.

“It’s not an old thing. It’s a grimoire,” Nina answered, not looking up from the journal.

“A witch’s spellbook?”

“It’s an invaluable repository of my family’s collective knowledge.”

“Still a bit odd for a kid to drag a book around like a dolly,” Emma said. She knew that Nina’s folk had been monster hunters. A legacy that Nina apparently took seriously.

Nina sighed, closing the journal.

“Sorry, grimoire,” Emma said. She draped her arms through the bars of the cage, leaning casually. “What’s so special about that witchy book?”

“The earliest monster hunters were called witches because they seemed immune to the effects of the Nexus mutations,” Nina explained, as if Emma were a child asking impertinent questions. Which, fair. “This volume is dedicated to the vampire Draven. He’s been on that mountain for centuries, and everything my family knows about him is in here.”

Yes, Nina took the monster hunter legacy very seriously.

“Seems like yesterday’s problem. The military took care of him.”

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss De Lacey?” Nina spoke as properly as ever, enunciating with the utmost care.

Honestly, the prim and proper act was wearing on Emma’s nerves. She knew Nina from back in the day, before finishing school polished away her accent. She wasn’t fooling Emma.

There was only one reason to lock Emma away in the dungeon when all the brawlers were upstairs: spite. Prim and proper behavior was supposed to be above spite, but here Nina was, playing Emma’s personal jailor in the dank dungeon. Not that Emma would know. Spite was her favorite emotion.

Emma needed to remove herself from this cell. The damp seeped through all her layers and her nose was numb from the cold. Asking questions about the book wasn’t the way. She needed to lay on the charm.

Tricky. If she laid on the charm too sweetly, Nina would know it was a ruse. Not enough charm and she’d be stuck in the cell overnight and likely never be warm again in her life.

Nina’s attention returned to the grimoire.

“The sun will be setting soon,” Emma said. Appealing to Nina’s practicality seemed the best way forward.

“That’s how it works.” The sheriff flipped a page in the book.

“Traveling in the dark is dangerous.”

“Indeed.”

“I’d consider it a personal favor if you released us. We’ll head on home while there’s still daylight.”

Nina’s head snapped up. “Before the magistrate’s had a chance to set bail? No. It’s improper and against protocol.” Her tone implied that the subject was decided.

Impossible and a stickler for the rules. How tedious.

“How much to get me out of here?” Maybe this was a problem she could throw coins at. She didn’t have a vast fortune or savings, but the money she collected from the grocer rested in her pocket. They needed that money to stock up before winter weather made it impossible to travel, but Ma would understand.

“Are you attempting to bribe me?”

“No, never. Not with your unimpeachable reputation. Unless?—”

Nina’s glare was enough to kill that line of inquiry. Bribes were right out.

Incorruptible, too. How novel for a sheriff.

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