Page 23 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)
Hal
Sweetwater Point
Wychwood House
Midwinter Solstice- Christmas
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The crowd erupted into cheers. Hal ignored them. There was only Emma in this moment. She was radiant in a soft burgundy gown, liberally embroidered with mistletoe and holly at the bodice. The mistletoe crown held a piece of lace in place over her hair. Her eyes shone.
Somehow, miraculously, she agreed to marry him.
A Christmas wedding seemed appropriate, as that was when he stumbled his way into her barn. Something drew him to her, something bigger than himself that he didn’t understand, but he was grateful.
Emma thrust the bouquet into the air in triumph and gave a happy yell. Their guests responded in kind.
So grateful.
Music played. Emma grabbed his hand and pulled him into a dance. He was terrible, but the delight in her eyes was worth the effort of his shambling steps. The evening passed in a blur of dancing and well-wishes. Agatha would occasionally press a drink or plate of food into his and Emma’s hands, reminding them to eat.
The wedding was meant to be simple. Emma had her family and a few friends. Hal had no family but invited the sheriff and deputies, as he considered them more than coworkers now. They were friends. Despite the small guest list, it seemed the entire town showed up.
Sheriff Navarre hosted the ceremony and reception in her family’s house, a grand building in town with ceilings and doors tall enough that Hal did not have to constantly worry about hitting his head.
Pocket doors were opened between the parlor and the dining room to create a larger space. Tables and chairs had been pushed to the side to clear space for dancing. Despite the sheriff insisting that she went through no particular effort, the event went off without a hitch. The house was beautifully decorated and far grander than any place Hal would ever dare visit.
Having worked with the sheriff for nearly nine months, Hal had come to admire the woman’s forthrightness and utter commitment to doing the right thing. Both of which were the same qualities he loved in Emma, but he understood how the two women often butted heads for that very reason. Emma had no problem bending rules to do what was right. Sheriff Navarre would never bend a rule. Exploit a loophole? Yes, happily, but she would never stray into morally gray territory.
As for his work as a deputy, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it. He expected people with something to prove to pick fights with the orc, and there was some of that. On the worst days, Hal felt as if his entire purpose was to stand behind the sheriff and glower. On the good days, he spent time visiting with the town merchants and chatting with travelers. He learned a lot about this new world simply by being friendly and curious. Occasionally, there was a dustup at the coffee shop because things got inflamed between Oscar and the other old philosophers, and Hal would escort Oscar home. Emma gave her father a piece of her mind, which was harsher than any punishment the law could deliver.
It was a good life. Not what he had envisioned for himself all those years ago when he left Earth, but exactly what he wanted. Family, friends, and fresh air.
And her.
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.”
Some part of Hal was glad to hear that. But he was still very angry with his brother, and that part of him was very loud.
“I should have you thrown out for crashing the party,” Hal said. The idea held a lot of appeal. “I won’t because I don’t want to spoil Emma’s day.”
Ethan glanced back into the house, the wedding guests visible through the window. “I’m glad that you have found your anchor. There are things I can tell you, information that I can share, about our condition. Surely you’ve wondered why you don’t age, but perhaps you haven’t noticed yet.”
“You kept me asleep in a cryo chamber.”
“For a time, but I ran out of the drugs. The last fifty or so years, you were sedated, not suspended. Normal aging applies.”
It was tempting. He was concerned about the growing age gap between him and Emma.
“That hair color is ridiculous on you,” Hal said with a sniff. “And you don’t need glasses.”
Ethan touched the rim of the glasses. “Part of the new persona. I’m a librarian now, if you can believe that.”
“That won’t fool anyone.”
“It helps that my previous reputation purported me to be a ravenous, bloodsucking fiend with glowing red eyes. A mild-mannered librarian simply does not turn that many heads.”
“Your eyes are still red.”
“Auburn in most lighting.”
Emma had found peace with her brother, but it was an ongoing journey. Hal unclenched a fist. Perhaps he could begin to find peace with his brother.
“Can I die?” Hal asked.
“Certainly.” Ethan tilted his head, considering the possibility. “It’d be difficult. You can handle a lot of pain and you heal quickly.”
“Speaking from experience.”
“Well, I didn’t want to sound like a complete bastard.”
Hal laughed unexpectedly.
Ethan continued, “Your skin is thick. I imagine that the right weapon, cold iron perhaps, in your heart would do the trick. Try not to get run through with any swords or spears. Are you particularly concerned about assassination attempts?”
“When Emma dies, I want to go with her,” Hal said. “I’m not lingering on for another damn eternity with my heart gone.”
“You don’t know.” Something like concern flickered across Ethan’s face. “She’s your anchor. The—and I hesitate to use this word, but I have yet to find a suitable term—the magic that affects you will share your lifespan with her.”
“Magic?” His brother, the doctor, the mad scientist, was spouting about magic .
“Yes, it’s a horrid term. I challenge you to think of something better. The unusual radiation levels caused the genetic adaptation to mutate. Some of the mutations are contagious. This is well known. A slowing of the aging process and improved health in our partners appears to also be contagious.”
Magic sounded far more congenial than contagion.
“I’ll do that. Where can I write to you?” Hal asked.
“What?”
“Letters.” He mimed scribbling with a pencil in the air. “I need a mailing address to inform you when I think of something better than magic and contagion .”
“Certainly.” Ethan appeared stunned as he produced a calling card.
“Vervain Hall,” Hal said, reading the address. “Someone’s doing well for himself.”
“I did marry a very wealthy widow.”
Charlotte arrived with her signed book and a pleased expression. After a quick farewell, Hal watched his brother and sister-in-law amble down the street.
“Who were they?” Emma asked, slipping her arm through his. The crown of mistletoe sat askew on her head.
“My brother and his wife.”
“No. No. ” She tugged on his arm like that would change his answer. Then, in a whisper, she asked, “Draven?”
“He goes by Ethan now.” Hal handed the card to Emma for inspection.
“How curious.” She returned the card. “The party will go to dawn, but I’m not interested in that.”
“No? What would please my lovely bride?” He pulled her close into an embrace.
She stretched up on her toes for a kiss, her smile radiant. “I’d like you to take me home, husband.”
Emma
Mistletoe Farm
The Cottage
“Tradition is tradition,” Hal insisted, scooping her up to carry her over the threshold. “Welcome home, Mrs. De Lacey.”
Emma gave up the fight to keep the mistletoe crown on her head and held it in one hand. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“I do. And I love you.” She pointed to the bundle of greenery over the door, her mother’s handiwork. “Tradition is tradition.”
Still holding her, Hal lifted her up for a toe-curling kiss.
Home. There was no place better.
On the site of the bunkhouse, they built their little cottage. The ceiling and doorways were made with Hal’s height in mind. Emma had plumbing and hot water thanks to a small boiler. No bathtub, as a tub the size to accommodate Hal would be massive, but a shower large enough for them both.
It was cozy and just the right size for two people. They’d expand if their family increased. That’d be a good problem to have.
Construction had been steady but slow. Hal did most of the work, seeking guidance for skills he did not have, starting with laying the stone. He discovered an affinity for carpentry and built several pieces of furniture, including the carved headboard on their bed.
Felix helped, visiting when he could and throwing himself into the project. Though he never explicitly said it, Emma understood it was a sort of penance. She had forgiven him almost as soon as the ashes of the original bunkhouse cooled.
And the best part? The very best part of their cozy little cottage? It had nothing to do with the hot water or the view of the western mountains. It was home. Everything and everyone she loved was within those four walls or nearby.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Hal asked, setting her on her feet.
“Hal, come to bed.”
The very best part.