Page 288 of Golden Eagle

48

Occasionally, it snowed at Halloween in Buffalo. This was one of those years.

Trina rolled over in the circle of Lanny’s arm – it tightened, briefly, on reflex – and cracked her eyes open to see gray dawn turned ethereal white by the reflection of the snow that lay over the hills of the farm like cotton batting. A thick, fluffy, sticky snow, pretty as a Thomas Kincade painting.

Condensation beaded the window, drops rolling down as she watched, leaving lines of clear glass behind. She could see the sun hunkered down at the horizon, amidst the evergreen boughs, Christmas gold.

Lanny pressed his face into the back of her neck and groaned. “Time is it?”

“Early.” She sat up, and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. He hummed in response, eyes still closed. “Go back to sleep. I’ll come get you when it’s time to set up.”

“Sure…” he murmured, already drifting off again.

She slipped out of bed, stepped into a soft pair of her mom’s old slippers, and cinched one of her dad’s soft flannel robes around her waist. Skipping the squeaky floorboards from deeply ingrained memory, she padded down the hall, past the living room, where Jamie slept on the fold-out sofa, and into the kitchen, where it already smelled like coffee and, if her nose wasn’t mistaken, coffee cake baking in the oven.

Her mom, in a terry cloth robe printed all over with little white rabbits, sat at the long plank table, in the seat with the best view out the big picture window, and turned with a smile ready when Trina walked in. “Morning, honey. Get you a cup and come sit down.”

Trina did just that, both hands cupped around the warm mug. Outside the window, cardinals, blue birds, and gold finches swarmed the feeders, spilling sunflower seed down onto the snow that the waddling doves no doubt appreciated. A woodpecker hung by his talons from the suet feeder. And, despite her father’s insistence that he was going to “shoot all those damn squirrels,” three sat plucking kernels from the ears of corn left out especially for them. All the food was freshly laid over the new snow, one pair of size eleven bootprints marking where her dad, in robe and ear-flapped hat, had trudged out to make sure the wildlife had enough to eat after Mother Nature had dumped what looked like at least a foot of snow on them.

She glimpsed a flash of silver, distantly. Val and Kolya sparred with blades down by the guest house where Val, Mia, and the le Stranges had been housed for the past week.

A week that had been odd, to say the least – but necessary. Healing.

She wondered now why she’d ever questioned their welcome. She’d brought two princes, a baron and baroness, a revenant, a mage, and two former detectives to her parent’s doorstep, and all they’d done was smile, and ask who was hungry, and start calculating the number of beds and air mattresses that could be spared.

When Rachel learned who Val was – “A prince! And Dracula’s brother at that!” – she’d insisted he and his take the one guest house. It had been dusty, and cobwebbed in the corners, but Val had proclaimed it lovely, and Mia had sank down gratefully into an ugly plaid chair like it was the best thing she’d ever seen.

Up the hill, Trina’s grandparents had put up Alexei, Dante, and Severin. Trina didn’t know what the sleeping arrangements were in that whole situation, and didn’t care. Dante had proved himself enough for her peace of mind – Severin, too. They were good as pack, now, unless Alexei decided tsars needed to strike off on their own – which he’d given no indication he thought, so far. He’d deferred to Nik’s judgement in everything, so far.

Sasha had been Trina’s one worry, not because her family bore any prejudices – but because her grandfather was Nikita’s son. And surely they’d all understood that Nik’s love for Sasha wasn’t purely platonic, surely…but she’d doubted. A moment. And judging by the look that had crossed Nik’s face, he had, too.

But Steve had smiled, and fished a key out of his pocket. “Nik, there’s a little cabin up by the tree line. You two are welcome to anyone’s couch you’d like, but if you want a little privacy, it’s not bad. Just big enough for two.”

Nikita’s hand had closed around the key, and he’d swallowed like he had a lump in his throat, his words just a whisper. “Thank you.”

Here they all were. But Trina knew they couldn’t stay forever.

“You know,” her mother mused quietly beside her, drawing her from her thoughts, “I didn’t think the whole long hair look did it for me, but that Val’s something else, isn’t he?”

Trina nearly choked on her next swallow of coffee. “Mom,” she laughed into her mug.

“He’s just sopretty.”

“I’m telling Dad you said that.”

“Don’t. He’d get terribly jealous.”

Trina doubted that, but nodded.

In their circle of trampled snow, Kolya parried an overhand strike with his crossed knives, and Val’s mouth opened on a shout of laughter they couldn’t hear.

“He’s restless, though, isn’t he?” Rachel said, growing serious. “Twitchy as a cat.”

“His brother’s off to war. I think he feels like he should be with him.” And even if he’d denied that he wanted to fight, personally, Trina thought that he didn’t understand how real his more violent urges were. HewasVlad’s brother, after all.

“Well. You gotta do what you gotta do, I guess. I get being there for your family.”

“Yeah.”

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