Page 90 of Mistletoe

Emma currently danced with her brother, twirling around in the room at breakneck speed to a fast-paced ditty currently popular in the saloons. Hal harbored no ill feelings toward Felix. He understood that a soldier had to follow orders. Felix was apparently the type who didn’t like to bend rules, either. Emma’s forgiveness took longer to earn, but Felix got there in the end.

Hal sensed him before he saw him, oddly without the ringing bell sensation of being in proximity to another such as himself. Perhaps because it was a familiar presence with a slow heartbeat.

Draven entered the crowded room, a woman with a cheerful round face on his arm. Charlotte. He was as sharp as ever and pale as moonlight. His hair was cut short and dyed an unremarkable brown, and he wore silver-rimmed glasses. Charlotte remained unchanged and wore a sensible dress suited for winter travel.

“I believe my last words to you were that I’d kill you if I saw you again.” He dipped his head to Charlotte and said, “It is a pleasure to see you again. Your taste in companions could be improved.”

“Forgive us, Mister…” She stumbled over the start of the formal greeting, unsure if she should use his familial name. She knew it, of course. Hal had been in the room when Draven confessed his true identity of Ethan Radcliffe, the infamous doctor whose experimentation caused the mutation and killed so many.

“De Lacey,” Hal supplied. “The De Laceys have opened their hearts to me. I am happy to consider them my family.”

Draven’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that Hal’s words hit their intended mark.

“Mr. De Lacey, please forgive us for intruding on your wedding celebrations,” Charlotte continued smoothly. “I’m Charlotte Woodhouse. This is my husband, Ethan Adler. We’re in town to attend the auction of the Aerie’s library.”

“Lots of folks are in town for that.”

The auction had attracted people outside of Sweetwater’s normal crowd. A fair number were academics and not inclined to cause trouble. The others were collectors with too much money who wanted a piece of the infamous vampire, even if it were a book from his library. Then there were the vampire enthusiasts who also wanted a piece of the vampire, but not for status or rarity. They were chasing a hero. Worse, once it got out that Hal had been the vampire’s “experiment,” they followed him around town and peppered him with questions.

The auction couldn’t happen soon enough for Hal.

“When we saw the announcement in the paper, we wanted to give our congratulations,” Charlotte said.

“Thank you. That is kind.”

Charlotte hesitated, weighing her next words. “Is Mrs. De Lacey the daughter of the Oscar De Lacey? The poet?”

“She is.”

“Would it be horribly rude to ask for an introduction?” Charlotte produced a small book from an inner pocket of her dress. “And to sign this?”

“No introduction necessary. He’s not one for formalities.” Hal pointed to Oscar, surrounded by a small crowd of admirers. “There’s nothing he loves more than an audience.”

Charlotte gave her congratulations again and vanished into the crowd.

The brothers faced each other.

“So, you’re Ethan again,” Hal said.

“Draven died on that mountain,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“That’s what the papers say.”

“A new name for a new life. I’m working to be someone better.”

“Someone deserving of her.”

Ethan nodded. “I agree. Charlotte is a revelation.”

Hal moved them onto the veranda to stop their conversation from being overheard. Music and the muffled chatter of the crowd followed them as they stepped into the cool night air.

“Explain what you are doing here,” Hal growled out the demand.

“We heard rumors of an orc lawman. I needed to know.”

Hal rocked back on his heels, surprised by the straightforward answer. “You’ve never cared about my well-being, so don’t expect me to believe that.”

Ethan sighed. “I have always cared for you. Choose to believe that or not.”

---