Page 20 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Nineteen

Emma

Mistletoe Farm

The Barn

Felix had his horse saddled and ready at dawn. Emma woke at the same hour as usual, but she was stiff and sore. She retired to the bunkhouse with Hal. After an alarmingly cold and remarkably quick shower, she dried by the fire. Once warm, they went to sleep in the same bed.

“The bunkhouse?” Felix’s eyebrows were high enough to practically hover over the top of his head.

“I am thirty years old. I can do what I please,” Emma said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“You’ll ruin your reputation and mine by association,” he said, mock alarm in his voice. “I’ll never make a good match now.”

“Oh. Woe is you. Whatever shall you do?” Emma said in a flat tone. Her reputation as a spinster was indisputable; she hadn’t concerned herself with public regard in ages.

Felix grinned as he tightened the cinch on the saddle. “I do miss you.”

“As do I. Ma is going gray with worry,” she said.

“I see a little gray in your hair, too.” He reached over to pluck out the offending hair.

She swatted his hand. “You never had a chance to tell me about your adventures.”

“It seems you had adventures of your own.”

Emma searched for malice in his tone but found none.

Felix continued, “We took the Aerie. We were told it’d be a treasure trove of old Earth tech, but it’s nothing but old junk. The top brass are fuming. All that time planning, money spent, and Draven got away in the end.”

“The papers say it was a massive success. Draven was killed.” She knew otherwise, Hal having confessed that he freed the vampire.

Felix gave her a look that silently derided her for believing everything she read.

“No one died taking it. That much is true.” He looked over his shoulder before continuing to speak. “Listen, Ma’s right about the army having monsters in their ranks. Not a brigade but there’s one in my company. If the major knew, he’d take Hal into custody. Conscript him.”

“Imprison him, you mean,” Emma said. Cold dread knotted in her stomach. “You mustn’t tell a soul, Felix.”

“I’m obligated to report monster sightings.” Felix swung up into the saddle. “I will be late. Farewell, sister.”

Emma grabbed the reins, preventing him from leaving. “You have no idea how he’s suffered. What that vampire did to him. He’s covered in scars. He has gaps in his memory. He can’t be imprisoned again.”

“The army won’t torture him. The beast in my company has the same privileges as another soldier.”

“And yet you will not call them by their name,” she said, her tone cold. “Do you even know their name?”

Emma held Felix’s gaze until he looked away.

“You’ve made your point.” Felix jerked the reins from her. The horse stomped in place, tail flicking in agitation.

Emma glared at her brother. “Have I?”

“I don’t like this,” he said after a pause, “but I’ll keep my mouth shut. If I’m asked a direct question, though, I won’t lie.”

“Fair enough.” It was the best she could hope for.

Hal

Mistletoe Farm

The Parlor

“A word,” Oscar said.

Hal set down the pail of milk. He had tried to walk quietly past the front porch where the older man was lounging in a rocking chair, but he wasn’t quiet enough. Oscar’s hearing was nearly as good as his own.

“How can I help?” Hal asked.

“Come with me.” Oscar pushed himself out of the chair and went inside the house.

Hal retrieved the pail and followed. Inside, he quickly delivered the milk to the kitchen and found Oscar waiting in the parlor.

“How is your injury?” Oscar asked.

“Stiff, but it will heal.” Emma’s stitches were uneven and crude, but Hal found that he did not mind. He liked the idea of having her mark on him.

“Please, sit.”

Hal ducked his head as he entered the room filled with diminutive, easily breakable furniture. “I’d rather stand.”

“As you please.” Oscar waved a hand dismissively. “I owe you an apology. I admit, my response to learning of your… physique was less than ideal.”

Hal decided that he needed to sit for his conversation. He settled on the sturdiest-looking item in the room, the sofa. The springs groaned under his weight but held.

“Less than ideal? You revealed a hateful side of your personality.”

Oscar paled. “Yes. My behavior was shameful. My children confronted me with my own hypocrisy, and I reacted badly.”

“I heard.” Every word.

“Emma is blunt rather than eloquent. She will pummel you with a club to deliver her message, but she was correct. I considered you a companion, a fellow philosopher with a gentle soul. A friend. Those qualities are your true nature. The body is merely a vessel. I was wrong to confuse the two. A man should be judged by words and deeds.”

Emma had said nearly those exact words to Hal in her apology.

“I’ve never been accused of being a philosopher,” Hal said.

“I pray that you can forgive me.”

“Your rejection hurt, Oscar. I considered you a friend.” Hal spoke slowly, processing his thoughts and picking his words carefully. Hal had liked Oscar immediately when he loaned out his books to a veritable stranger. He enjoyed their conversations. “Because of my appearance, people are immediately afraid. You and Emma are the only people who were not afraid. You spoke to me like a fellow human being. I took such delight in our conversations. Now that I know your acceptance wasn’t because of an innate doctrine, I must reconsider our friendship.”

Oscar drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I was not my best self. I have no excuse.”

“I also owe you an apology,” Hal said. “I misled you. I knew about your blindness and took advantage of that.”

“You wanted companionship and acceptance. I reacted out of fear and bigotry, exactly what you hoped to avoid.” Oscar waved a hand, as if dismissing the apology. “They are not the same offenses.”

Hal grew weary of this. So many emotions. So many unintended offenses. So much talking in circles.

“I accept your apology,” Hal said.

“You are gracious. May I ask you two questions?”

“You’ve never asked permission to interrogate me before.”

Oscar’s lips twitched, amused. “Is it true what Emma told us? You were the vampire’s captive?”

“That is true.”

“For how long?”

“Is that your second question?” Hal asked.

“No. Ignore that. It was a subquestion, but I will not waste your good humor in answering.”

“A long time. More than a century.” Hal was reluctant to share the exact number of years?—

“You are so old! We must be children to you.”

—For that reason.

“My kind ages slowly. I was kept unconscious for much of that time.”

“That is fascinating. How?—”

“I do not wish to discuss the particulars,” Hal said, weariness in his tone. He would delve into the details for Emma if she asked, but only her. He would not make an exhibition of his pain for the curious.

“Yes, of course. Now, my second question.” Oscar leaned forward and asked, “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

“She is everything,” he answered without hesitation.

Oscar leaned back in his chair. “That is fortunate. In truth, I considered you a good match to Emma. You are gentle and have a philosophical bend. It is a good balance to her bluntness and practicality. Now then, have you read the Longchamp?”

“I have. I was not impressed.”

“Longchamp is considered the luminary of his generation.”

“I found it rather sentimental,” Hal confessed. So many poems with flowers.

“It’s derivative rubbish, but that daffodil poem is in every grammar school textbook, so no one questions its merits. As an approach to literature, I think that is shortsighted .” Oscar paused, his brows raised as if expecting a reaction.

“Did you… did you make a joke about your blindness?”

“Yes!” He tossed his hands in the air, as if exasperated. “So many opportunities for quality puns and no one will so much as utter the word blind in my presence. It is vexing.”