Page 4 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Three

Hal

West Lands

A thunderous crack shook the morning calm.

Smoke rose from the mountains. Ethan’s mountain. No, Draven was the name of the monster that erased his brother. The thing that held him, tortured him, and made him suffer was not his brother.

Draven.

The army that amassed outside the fortress must have breached the walls.

Good.

Hal wondered at the bitter contempt he felt for his brother. Draven had asked him to stay, to fight, but amidst the confusion, Hal escaped. He would not fight for the man who locked him away. Experimented on him. That man could go to hell, as far as Hal was concerned.

Whatever trouble was currently battering down his brother’s door was not Hal’s problem.

It was time to move.

The landscape was open, rolling fields blanketed under snow with little to break up the horizon. The harsh blue sky pressed down, making the landscape feel flatter. The occasional black dots of a herd moved in the distance.

Homesteads were few and far between. Hal gave them a wide berth, which was easy. There was no road, just muddy tracks through the snow. He kept off the road, such that it was, in case he needed to hide.

The mountains lurked, never retreating into the distance no matter how far Hal walked. A column of black smoke smudged against the blue sky, marking the location of Draven’s besieged fortress. The smoke meant nothing but trouble for his brother, and Hal couldn’t be more pleased.

Hal had never seen so much emptiness. Had never imagined such vast swaths of nothingness. No buildings. No people. No vehicles on the road or in the sky.

It was unnerving. He couldn’t state plainly enough how crowded Earth had been. At least his corner of Earth. People packed into the coastal megalopolis, building on top of each other. The streets overflowed with too much of everyone and everything. Buildings and vehicles crowded out the sky. Fresh air and sunlight were privileges reserved for those who could afford them. Even the rain was snatched out of the sky by collection units and hoarded.

The ship and being confined to a box roughly the size of a coffin were no better. His existence had been restricted to closed-in, limited spaces.

This world was too open. Too empty. It was disconcerting. He felt exposed.

The colony must still be settling into the planet. Rapid expansion and building had been the plan, or at least the bullet points highlighted in the company handbook. Hope sparked that he hadn’t lost too much time to his captivity.

As the sun moved in the sky, Hal noticed subtle details. Variegated purple grass poked through the thin layer of snow. Other vegetation caught his eye, an evergreen-like vine that reacted to his body heat and curled around his finger. Tiny needles pierced his skin. The leaves plumped up immediately as the vine drew blood, the washed-out color growing to a deep violet.

With a snarl, Hal tore the bloodsucking vine off his hand. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, but Hal wasn’t a botanist or even a nature lover. Or someone who enjoyed walks in the park, for that matter. He was familiar with weeds that grew in cracks in the pavement and had never seen a bloodsucking vine.

Terraforming the entire planet before the colonists woke from stasis had been the plan, yet this area seemed… alien. Alarmingly alien.

A small animal that looked like a picture book illustration of a bunny darted out from a clump of snowy vegetation and quickly disappeared into another. The herd that appeared as nothing more than dark specks in the distance moved steadily closer, or he moved closer to them.

The creatures were unlike anything he had ever seen—large two-legged birds with gray and white feathers and a ridiculously long neck. They strongly resembled an emu or ostrich, but the faces were off. The eyes were too large and the beaks too sharp.

They eyed him as he walked by, shifting from foot to foot, the sharp talons catching the sunlight.

Hal had never met an emu or ostrich on Earth. The animals had long gone extinct, so he couldn’t say if malice rolled off the Earth variety the way it emanated from the herd.

He decided to skirt around the herd to avoid any unpleasant accidents. Soon enough, he detected the scent of civilization: coal and smoke. His mind, still gummy, pieced together fragments that resembled a plan. He would report his captivity to the governor or whatever administrator had been put in charge of the colony. Ethan might have been a staff member with rank and privilege on the ship, but Hal read the charter. He knew his rights. Being held captive was a clear violation. One only had to look at Hal and know that he suffered unspeakably.

If his brother survived the assault on his mountain fortress, Hal would make him pay.

Thoughts of revenge cheered him and kept his steps brisk, even as his stomach grumbled with hunger.

The land was alive. He was no longer confined to the dark, be it a crowded city or a dungeon. He walked in the sun. All things were possible.

Emma

West Lands

Mistletoe Farm

A thundering explosion shook the morning, jerking Emma out of her sleep. Shouts came from her parents’ bedroom, followed by feet pounding down the stairs.

Emma wrapped herself in a blanket and followed. Her first thought was that the fort suffered an accident or attack. She hoped for an accident, as coldhearted as that sounded. A stray spark in the ammunition depot generally held a better outcome for the nearby civilian population.

On most days, the only reminder of the town’s existence was coal and wood smoke on the horizon. On bad days, the wind shifted, bringing all the foul smells of smoke and worse. It was far enough away to feel removed but close enough to reach without losing more than half an hour of travel. It was perfect for the small farm but Emma worried about the proximity. Anything bold enough—or desperate enough—to attack the base was a grim prospect.

She found her parents on the veranda, facing the mountains. Wearing nothing but a thin robe and house slippers, her mother shivered in the cold. Her father nodded his head in greeting, then turned to face the mountains.

“The explosion came from there,” he said.

There was just enough light to make out the mountains in the distance and smoke rising, dark gray against a pale gray sky.

The bleak morning light made the air seem colder. Emma draped one end of the blanket over her mother’s shoulders, bringing her close to keep warm.

Another year, another attempt to take the mountain from the vampire Draven. The military was reliable that way.

But they had never forced service on the men before. And the military had never raided local homesteads for supplies either.

This was a major operation.

“That’s Felix’s work,” Agatha said, nodding to the smoke. “My boy will come home.”

Smoke was never good. Regardless, Emma said, “They’ll come home.”

Oscar drew himself up to his full height, as if coming to a decision. He didn’t say a word as he vanished inside the house, emerging a moment later wearing his coat over his nightshirt.

Agatha gripped Emma’s arm in a silent plea.

“There’s no point in going to town,” Emma said. “The papers won’t have anything printed until tomorrow.”

“There’s always talk,” Oscar said, putting on his hat.

Agatha’s grip tightened.

The town didn’t hold any answers for them, at least not today, but that wouldn’t stop her father.

The ride into town would not be safe on his own but telling him that was a surefire way to ensure that he did just that. He was a stubborn old goat and could dig his heels in when the spirit moved him.

Issues of his vision aside, the notion of her absent-minded father unsupervised in Sweetwater Point soured in her stomach. At best, he’d lose his coin purse either from drink or from pickpockets. At worst, he’d get into a fistfight and be locked up for the night, like last time. Talk meant visiting the waterholes where soldiers frequented, and her father just could not keep his political opinions to himself.

Yes, Oscar De Lacey could not go alone, especially dressed in his nightshirt.

“I’ll go with you tomorrow,” Emma said hurriedly.

“I am more than capable of going to town on my own. I could do it blindfolded.” He grinned, pleased at his own joke.

According to the physician, he had a degenerative condition that would have been nothing to cure with old Earth technology. No such technology existed on Nexus, so Oscar had to endure an ever-growing black spot in his vision. He had limited sight in the periphery, enough to navigate if he moved carefully and no one rearranged the furniture in the house.

For the record, he was also capable of dressing himself, but allowances needed to be made as he was preoccupied.

“I know you are busy with the farm. I see all the work you do, my prairie flower,” he said, using a pet name, presumably, to soften her.

“Then you know I can’t rush off without some planning. We can go tomorrow. Besides, I need fabric for new trousers,” she said, which was not a complete lie. She did need a sturdy fabric to make a pair of properly fitting trousers for her orc… acquaintance.

“You can check on our consignments with the grocer while you’re in town, too,” Agatha added. They sold goat cheese consignment in the store. In the spring, they’d shear the sheep, spin the wool, and sell the yarn at the general store. “Use the money to restock our larder.”

Oscar’s gaze bounced from Emma to Agatha as they spoke. “I suppose you’ll be needed to read any notices,” he conceded.

Emma seriously doubted there would be any notices or casualty lists ready tomorrow. Those typically took time to compile.

“I’ll work on a shopping list for you,” Agatha added.

Emma nodded. “We can go at first light tomorrow.”

Oscar made a noise of protest, but Agatha put a hand on his back. “At first light,” he agreed.

“A marvelous plan. Come along, love. I’ll get your breakfast started,” Agatha said.