Page 4 of Winter Reckoning
I set the duffel down near the door but didn't unzip my coat. The silence stretched long enough that I started cataloging exit points. Four doors. One to the front porch, another to the back. Two windows on the ground floor. Upstairs would need to be checked. If something happened, the front door would serve as the fastest route outside.
Charlene glanced up from the box, holding a pair of silver orbs for the Christmas tree. “You can sit if you want. We don't bite. Well, I don’t. I can’t promise about him. He’s feisty.”
Feisty? The man in the chair turned another page. I didn’t move.
“Suit yourself. Just what I needed, two emotionally constipated men.” She reached into the box and pulled out a long rope of silver tinsel. “There's tea. Or coffee. We've got instant, but it's the fancy kind. I can’t convincesomebodyto get an espresso machine.”
"I'm fine."
“Of course you are,” she muttered. Charlene didn't look up this time. Instead, her face lit up when she revealed a silver star tree topper. Neither indicated that anything was out of thenormal. Had I walked into the wrong cabin? Was I defending them from normalcy? Unless they’d already been taken over by something. This was weird, even for me.
The fire popped. A log shifted, sending tiny red sparks up the chimney. Even the stockings hanging from the wooden mantle screamed normal. The man in the chair set his book aside and picked up his mug. He took a slow sip, eyes fixed on the flames. His hands were weathered. No, his knuckles were scarred, suggesting old wounds. Who could this burly man possibly have gotten into a fight with?
I watched him for signs of distress. Nervousness. Fear. Anything explaining why a Redline-classified file had been handed to me. He didn't give me anything. Just sat there like a man who had nowhere to be and no reason to hurry.
Charlene broke the silence again. “So, how long are you staying? Oh! Are you going to be here for Christmas?”
“Staying as long as it takes.”
"That's delightfully vague." She waved the tinsel in the air. “Nick, where do you want this?”
Nick. At least I had a name.
The man in the chair glanced over. "Wherever you think it should go."
“Thanks, Mr. Brooding. That's not helpful.”
"It wasn't meant to be."
She rolled her eyes and stood, draping across the tree. Much like her personality, she hung it in a chaotic pattern. She stopped, taking a step back. Her head tilted to the side. Upon closer inspection, their Christmas tree leaned toward the fireplace.
She shrugged. “Better. It’s not festive enough. It needsmore.”
Nick didn't comment.
I shifted my weight and felt the floorboards creak under my boots. Charlene returned to the table and started sorting ornaments by color. Nick picked up his book again. The fire continued crackling. The string of lights on the tree flickered once, then stayed steady.
I almost wished a supervillain blew through the side of the cabin. It’d be more normal than… whateverthiswas. How the hell did these two qualify for a Redline mission?
No one acknowledged why I was here. Neither asked about the file nor the assignment, nor why the Task Force thought these two needed protection. What threat warranted a superpowered officer? It was just another day for them.
Charlene hummed again. I’m pretty sure it started as a Christmas carol and quickly turned into her beatboxing. All I had so far were names. Nick and Charlene. The quiet, burly bear and the upbeat intern. I became nothing more than scenery as these two went about their comfortable silence.
I watched Nick from across the room. Nick turned another page. Calm. Still. Unreadable.
Three days. I could do three days of this.
I just wasn't sure whatthiswas supposed to be.
3
“He’s checking his list.He’s checking it twice.”
I woke to incessant humming and gray light filtering through the window. My bones ached from sleeping on a couch six inches too short. My coat lay draped over my chest like a blanket. I didn't remember pulling it down from where I'd left it on the arm. I wanted it to be Nick, but I suspected it was Ms. Rise and Shine.
The fireplace still glowed faintly, embers barely bright enough to register. Not out, but close. A kettle in the kitchen whistled loud enough it made my teeth shake. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had broken out the retirement scotch.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had checked my watch before lying back on the couch. Nick had still been reading though it had been well past midnight. It wasn’t like me to fall asleep before the client, but the way he turned the pages in a book, he wouldn’t sleep until he reached the end.
