Page 9 of All I Want For Christmas Is An Alien
I look up and sure enough, Torin’s holding a massive snowball, as big as his hand.
“My aim isbetter than that.”
The snowball lands square in Mak’s face. The male doesn’t flinch. Neither does Vinnov. But Samira launches herself in front of her father and brother, arms folded over her chest, green eyes blazing.
“You’ll have to go through me next, Uncle Torin,” she announces.
Laughter bubbles up. I can’t help myself. She’s only five, only six months older than my Crispin, but that little girl is a leader like no other. Clem is a full two years older, but even she defers to Samira.
Torin advances on the trio and stares down at his niece. “You don’t even reach my waist, youngling.”
“Which is where she’ll punch if he’s not careful,” Emily whispers to me.
“Has Makov been training her as a warrior already?”
Emily shrugs. “We live in an isolated area, and she’s a girl. After what happened to me, he’s determined that she will always be able to defend herself.”
“Honestly, I never thought about that with Clem. She’s more inclined to watch over the kids here at the Center. And they in turn have become her personal entourage of bodyguards, even though they’re only a few years older than her.”
My hand flies to my face. “I have to run up to the main building. I can’t leave them out of playing in the snow.”
Emily’s hand on my arm stops me. “Ruby’s getting them. And they’ll be dressed as warmly as our kids. Did you think McKenna would forget about them?”
I swallow a lump in my throat at how my friends and family have thought of everything. “I guess I’m not thinking clearly. And honestly, I don’t know whether to be mad at Havok or worried about him.”
“Mad is better than worrying.”
“But it’s not fair to him.”
“You think these warriors can’t handle an angry woman?”
I smile, knowing how all our little spats end. Crispin is a result of one such spat.
Makov hands Vinnov to Samira to hold. I see a fight brewing.
“Take it outside,” Emily says, pushing Makov toward the door. “And take the kids.”
“An excellent idea, my Em. With so many younglings running around, Torin will be distracted when I pummel him.”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Take them out so you can teach them how to make snowballs. I’ll join you as soon as I baste the kirkas, okay?”
The resh she made two nights ago was decent. Not spectacular, but decent. No one died. No one went to the medi-center with food poisoning. A third Christmas miracle. Are there any miracles left?
Within minutes, everyone gathers outside, fifteen of us in total. I glance at my kids. At Emily and Mak’s, and Ruby and Torin’s as well as five eeshone kids ranging from five to thirteen.
“Now what?” I ask, at a loss.
“We pick teams,” Emily says. “Kids versus adults, or women versus men.”
“We should separate Torin and Mak,” Ruby says.
“So they don’t fight?” I ask.
“Oh, they’ll fight,” Emily replies. “But we won’t get caught in the cross fire if they’re on separate teams.
Samira’s already making snow angels beside Emily. And the older boys are making snowballs and handing them to the young ones to stack. They’re building an arsenal.
“I’m sticking with the kids.”
