Page 8 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Seven

Emma

Sweetwater Point

Sheriff’s Office

Hours passed. The sheriff placed Emma in a cell in the basement. Floorboards creaked from people walking above, causing dust to rain down. Murky light filtered through the dirt-covered window high in the wall.

She was locked in the dungeon, essentially. It was cold. It was damp. Emma could perfectly imagine succumbing to some dreadful, old-fashioned malady.

The situation was unacceptable. She needed to be released.

At least she wasn’t in the dungeon alone.

A single lantern illuminated the sheriff sitting at a rickety table, thumbing through a leatherbound journal. She occasionally paused to make notes in the margins of the pages.

“You still have that old thing?” Emma asked. She recognized it from their school days. Nina always had her nose in the battered book with the fevered intensity of preparing for an exam.

“It’s not an old thing. It’s a grimoire,” Nina answered, not looking up from the journal.

“A witch’s spellbook?”

“It’s an invaluable repository of my family’s collective knowledge.”

“Still a bit odd for a kid to drag a book around like a dolly,” Emma said. She knew that Nina’s folk had been monster hunters. A legacy that Nina apparently took seriously.

Nina sighed, closing the journal.

“Sorry, grimoire,” Emma said. She draped her arms through the bars of the cage, leaning casually. “What’s so special about that witchy book?”

“The earliest monster hunters were called witches because they seemed immune to the effects of the Nexus mutations,” Nina explained, as if Emma were a child asking impertinent questions. Which, fair. “This volume is dedicated to the vampire Draven. He’s been on that mountain for centuries, and everything my family knows about him is in here.”

Yes, Nina took the monster hunter legacy very seriously.

“Seems like yesterday’s problem. The military took care of him.”

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss De Lacey?” Nina spoke as properly as ever, enunciating with the utmost care.

Honestly, the prim and proper act was wearing on Emma’s nerves. She knew Nina from back in the day, before finishing school polished away her accent. She wasn’t fooling Emma.

There was only one reason to lock Emma away in the dungeon when all the brawlers were upstairs: spite. Prim and proper behavior was supposed to be above spite, but here Nina was, playing Emma’s personal jailor in the dank dungeon. Not that Emma would know. Spite was her favorite emotion.

Emma needed to remove herself from this cell. The damp seeped through all her layers and her nose was numb from the cold. Asking questions about the book wasn’t the way. She needed to lay on the charm.

Tricky. If she laid on the charm too sweetly, Nina would know it was a ruse. Not enough charm and she’d be stuck in the cell overnight and likely never be warm again in her life.

Nina’s attention returned to the grimoire.

“The sun will be setting soon,” Emma said. Appealing to Nina’s practicality seemed the best way forward.

“That’s how it works.” The sheriff flipped a page in the book.

“Traveling in the dark is dangerous.”

“Indeed.”

“I’d consider it a personal favor if you released us. We’ll head on home while there’s still daylight.”

Nina’s head snapped up. “Before the magistrate’s had a chance to set bail? No. It’s improper and against protocol.” Her tone implied that the subject was decided.

Impossible and a stickler for the rules. How tedious.

“How much to get me out of here?” Maybe this was a problem she could throw coins at. She didn’t have a vast fortune or savings, but the money she collected from the grocer rested in her pocket. They needed that money to stock up before winter weather made it impossible to travel, but Ma would understand.

“Are you attempting to bribe me?”

“No, never. Not with your unimpeachable reputation. Unless?—”

Nina’s glare was enough to kill that line of inquiry. Bribes were right out.

Incorruptible, too. How novel for a sheriff.

“I’m merely suggesting that I post bail now rather than wait. I could be here for days.”

“My deepest condolences, but the law is the law. I cannot pick and choose which aspects I enforce.”

Morally upright. Unbending. Dull as dishwater.

“Oh, come on, hang protocol. You’re the sheriff. Use your discretion,” Emma said in a pleasant voice, as if she were not mentally listing all Nina’s shortcomings.

Nina leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and Emma did not like the expression on her face one bit. “Are we friends?” she asked.

“We’re… friendly.” Emma did not want to lie outright, but if playing up to nostalgia and an old friendship got her out of the cell, she’d do it. “Friendly associates.”

“We are not friends. Even if we were, I do not do personal favors for friends or miscreants. The implication insults me.”

That word again.

“I am not a miscreant,” Emma said.

“You assaulted a man in a room full of witnesses.”

“And you were one! You saw the whole thing. He insulted me and grabbed me. My actions were justified.”

“You started a bar brawl.” Nina stood from the desk and approached the cell. “A window was smashed. You’re responsible for some serious property damage.”

“That was not my fault,” Emma said. “Heaven forbid a woman defend herself! I broke one mug. I’ll pay for that, but not the furniture or the windows.”

“Ruined uniforms. Broken bones. I have a list if you’d like to read it yourself?” Nina produced a folded piece of paper from a pocket. The writing appeared to be small and cramped; no doubt, it was a very detailed list.

“Please forward any correspondence to my attorney,” Emma said, trying her best to sound unbothered. She was bothered. Completely bothered. Her actions had been more than justified but she’d never talk the sheriff round to her way of thinking, let alone talk her way out of the dungeon. The sheriff was too honest and morally upright. “What happened to my father? Is he being held upstairs?”

“We released him an hour ago.”

“You let a blind man ride home alone?” The horses knew the way home. Finding his way home in the dark wasn’t the issue. Any number of things could happen along the way. Bandits. Monsters. An irritable ratite could take offense to Pa’s whistling and attack.

“A deputy took him to a boarding house,” Nina said. “Whether or not he stays the night is his choice, not mine. He’s probably at the coffeehouse.”

“You know he’s banned from the coffeehouse.” Emma pushed off the bars and took three steps back until her legs hit the edge of the cot.

Sweetwater Point was a bustling town, always filled with people coming and going, but it was a small town all the same. It had two general stores, a music hall, three livery stables, about a dozen boarding houses, but only one coffeehouse. Pa and his strong opinions got him banned on the regular. Hugh, the owner, usually lifted the ban after a month, once tempers had a chance to cool. While the town was always filled with people, those people were transient. They didn’t stay, and apparently, the chatter in the coffeehouse got dull without Pa’s rabble-rousing.

“I can send a deputy to check on him,” Nina offered.

It was uncharacteristically kind and got Emma’s back up. “Care to explain why I am kept in such inadequate conditions? There’s a wood-burning stove, but no wood or burning. And a blanket wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Seems we’re a bit crowded today. Someone started a brawl in a tavern.”

“If the jail is overcrowded, why am I alone? Shouldn’t I have a cellmate?”

“Segregation by gender,” Nina replied quickly, as if she had the explanation ready and waiting.

Which was suspicious.

“Seems like a personal grudge from my perspective.”

“From my perspective, you’re a troublemaker. You started a brawl in a crowded tavern in front of the town’s sheriff. You’re dangerous.”

“Oh, that’s just ludicrous.”

“You have dangerous associates.”

“I do not,” Emma protested, but the accusation gave her pause. It made no sense. Her most dangerous associate was the cat, Clover.

“The orc.”

Now it made sense. The separation. The uncomfortable cell. Being chaperoned by the sheriff personally yet ignored for hours. Nina waited to interrogate Emma, making sure she was properly motivated to be talkative, which just made Emma angry.

“What’s an orc?” Emma asked.

Nina’s eyes narrowed, clearly not amused. “Stop wasting my time, De Lacey. Mrs. Fairfax reported seeing a large green man the night after the winter solstice.”

“That’s it? She saw someone?” Emma knew the woman who made the report. Isabella Fairfax was her closest neighbor and a busybody.

“Someone green. Disfigured. Excessive teeth.”

None of which was a crime or a particularly helpful description.

Insulting, though.

“Isabella Fairfax is old enough to know that existing near her property is not a crime.” Emma pointed a finger for dramatic emphasis. “She should be arrested for wasting your time.”

“Reporting a monster sighting is the duty of every citizen. Now, what do you know about the orc?”

“Literally nothing.”

The sheriff took a step toward the cell, holding her gaze. Emma stared back, refusing to be intimidated by such obvious tactics. Nina said, “When the orc burst through the window, everyone was surprised except you.”

“I was stunned, which is the expected reaction.”

“You licked your lips.”

Emma glanced away, breaking eye contact. She had been stunned, but not by Hal’s dramatic entrance. Her attraction to him was what shook her. Not many people caught her eye. In her younger years, a few fellows came courting, but nowadays, she was far too abrasive and caustic to entertain gentler emotions. She was thirty and a spinster. The town would laugh at her if she bothered to woo anyone, let alone a monster.

Wooing a monster, could you even imagine?

But Hal’s smile made her warm inside. It wasn’t gentle or refined, but fierce. It called to her.

“You’re blushing,” Nina said.

Emma pressed her hands to her blazing hot face, mortified to find she was indeed blushing. “That’s indignation, not anything unseemly.”

Excellent. The sheriff would surely never detect that lie.

“Explain this.” Nina thrust the blanket toward Emma, displaying the embroidery of white berries and green leaves in the corner.

Mistletoe.

Emma took the blanket, brushing her thumb over the uneven stitches. “This is my handiwork. I was a girl when I did this. My technique has not improved, sadly.”

“I know the blanket came from your farm,” Nina said. “You have a prior relationship with the orc.”

“A blanket does not establish a relationship. He could have stolen it from the barn,” she said.

Emma held the blanket out for Nina to take. She made a dismissive gesture, implying that Emma should keep it. She wrapped it around her shoulders, resisting the urge to sniff it.

“Refusing to tell me what you know is obstruction.”

Emma really did not think that was how the law worked. She should demand a lawyer and refuse to utter another word.

“I found the orc in the barn two nights ago.”

“And?”

“And what? It was the solstice. There was a monster in the barn. I ran away and haven’t seen him since.”

“Until today.”

“Until today,” Emma agreed.

“What did it say to you?”

Nina referring to Hal as it rubbed Emma the wrong way. “ He told me his name.”

“Why would it do that?”

It. Again.

“Why would he jump through a window? His motivations are a mystery,” Emma said, her anger returning.

“Yes, why would it jump through a window when you were in distress, attack the man who threatened you, and then take the time to speak quietly with you in the middle of a brawl? Indeed, a most perplexing mystery.”

“Stop saying ‘it.’ Hal has a name.”

Nina grinned like she won a prize and tutted, “Such a mystery.”

Emma’s temper was not doing her any favors. She needed to watch her tongue. Better yet, she should not utter another word so the sheriff could not twist her words against her.

Nina returned to the table, flipping through the book as if searching for a particular passage. She didn’t notice Emma’s growing temper or didn’t care.

“It is rumored that the vampire lord keeps a monster in the lowest levels of the Aerie,” she read aloud. She flipped another page. “A terrible construct of various parts.” Flip. Flip. “The most unnatural green skin. Teeth like a wild boar.”

“We don’t have wild boar,” Emma said. The majority of Earth animals that lived on Nexus were livestock or pets. Horses, goats, sheep, cows, dogs, cats, some birds, and so on. No badgers or zebras, however, which was unfortunate. Zebras appeared entirely whimsical. Emma would have liked to see one in the flesh. Now, they only existed as textbook illustrations.

“And yet you can visualize the creature with ease,” Nina said. “That orc serves the vampire.”

“I really don’t think so,” Emma replied before she could think how the sheriff would take her remark.

Poorly. Extremely poorly.

Nina snapped the book shut. “What do you know? Tell me, or I’ll keep you here until spring.”

Blast it all.

“When I discovered the orc in my barn,” Emma said. Nina leaned forward, eager to listen. “He was nude.”

Nina’s expression hardened. “Lies waste time. You may not value your time, but I value mine.”

“He did not have a stitch on him,” Emma insisted. “That’s why I gave him the blanket.”

“A detail you forgot to mention.” Her eyes narrowed. “And then what?”

“Then nothing. I skedaddled because there was a naked green man in my barn! Does that sound like a man in league with Lord Draven?”

Nina folded her arms over her chest, holding the grimoire close. “I believe he’s Draven’s creature. Perhaps he escaped in the battle. Perhaps he’s an agent sent here to cause confusion and split our forces.”

“That’s a lot of speculating.”

“Either way, it’s a monster and will be dealt with accordingly.”

“You’re assuming Hal’s dangerous.”

“All monsters are dangerous.”

“That’s not strictly true. There are documented cases of beasts living ordinary lives with a partner, someone to keep them tame.” She loathed the words beasts and tame , but it was the only thing her tired and creaky brain supplied.

“Anchors. Those cases are few and far between. All monsters are dangerous,” she repeated. The determination gleaming in her eyes might as well have been fanaticism.

This was not good. Nina wouldn’t rest until she captured a monster. Emma couldn’t let that happen. Hal might not be innocent—she didn’t know a thing about him, just his name—but he hadn’t done anything to justify being hunted.

She needed to protect him, that she knew. He had been in her barn on a cold, snowy night without a stitch on. Not even shoes. Did that sound like a fierce monster or a desperate man in a bad situation?

Nina studied Emma, no doubt registering how Emma’s heart sped up a touch when speaking of Hal, or how she clutched the blanket around her shoulders, imagining it were his arms.

“How about you stay overnight as my guest and see if there’s anything else you remember?” she said, taking the only lantern with her as she left.

Hal

Sweetwater Point

Hal waited until nightfall. Several things did not happen. Emma had not been released. He did not leave town.

It was a vexing situation.

In the dark, Hal made his way down to the street. Gas lamps created easily avoidable puddles of light. With the scarf wrapped over his nose and mouth, the hat, and his newly acquired coat, he moved in the shadows and remained undiscovered.

The streets were nearly empty. The theater was lit up like a beacon, bustling with music and patrons. Other taverns and saloons glowed in the night, offering a respite from the cold night air. Occasionally, a door opened, laughter and music spilled out, then vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Hal watched the sheriff’s office. He itched to burst through the doors and find Emma, release her, which made no sense. He did not know her. He was grateful for the meal and the clothing, but that was the extent of the obligation.

She gave him her name. He gave his in return. A fair trade.

He should leave town now, using the empty streets and the darkness to his advantage.

Yet…

He could not. She was imprisoned. It would not do.

Anger bubbled up in him, red and scalding. Was she in a cell, behind bars? What were bars to him? He’d break them easily. Everything about this place was flimsy. He would not have been surprised to learn the buildings were made of cardboard.

The sheriff’s office was wood and not brick. He could just punch his way through, bypass the cell altogether, and free Emma. Easily, if he knew where she was being held.

He had not heard her voice or caught the scent of her soap, yet he knew she was inside. He had no explanation for how he acquired that information.

The brawl at the tavern had been a mistake. He could not afford a repeat. For Emma’s sake, he should wait. Gather information. Develop a plan.

“Be useful for once, and don’t make the situation worse.”

Hal frowned. His brother spoke those words in a memory but he could not say why or when. It felt like a borrowed memory, ill-fitting and not truly his.

Or, damn his brother and his faulty memories to hell, he could smash through a wall and see what happened.

That one. That plan. That was what he wanted.

The sound of whistling alerted him to a passerby, derailing his destructive impulse.

Hal stepped back, blending into the shadows.

Wait. Observe. Then act.

He could do that.