Holidays are Hell(27)

"This is what you want to do for a living," I muttered as I snatched up a set of keys, my fingers trembling. "If you can't do it now, you may as well go to the coast with your brother."

No way. I felt alive, my heart pounding, and my emotions high. It was a great sensation, and it stayed with me all the way out to the garage. A spring in my step, I yanked the garage door up and into the ceiling with a satisfying quickness. I usually had to have my mom do it.

As I strode to the driver's side, my fingers traced the smooth lines of the beat-up Volkswagen bug I had bought with what had been left over from selling The Bat. It ran most of the time. I got in, feeling how stiff the vinyl seats were from the cold. The temperatures had been dropping steadily now that the snow had stopped, and I was freezing.

"Please start…" I begged, then patted the steering wheel when it sputtered to life. "Tell me I can't come?" I whispered, turning to look behind me as I backed out with a tinny putt-putt of a sound. Okay, I didn't have a real license yet, but who was going to give me a ticket on the solstice? Scrooge?

Still riding the high, I putted down the street, lights on and scanning the sidewalk. I found him two blocks down. He was still running, but he was in the street now, probably after finding too many of our neighbors hadn't shoveled their walks. I rolled my window down and pulled up alongside of him. He glanced at me, then stopped with a look of ambivalence.

I grinned. "Sorry for ruining your farewell speech. I really liked it. You want a ride?"

"You can drive," he said, his eyes tracing the car's odd shape.

"Of course I can." It was cold, and I flicked the heat on. The almost-warm air shifted my hair, and I saw him look at the drifting strands, making me wonder what it would feel like if he ran his fingers through it.

He stood in the freezing night, not a puff of breath showing as he stood to look charming in his indecision. "It's powerfully difficult to run and not try to breathe at the same time," he finally said. "Do you know the streets to the east hills?"

I nodded, and my grin grew that much wider. His head down dejectedly, he came around the front, the lights flashing bright as they hit him. I stifled my smile when he fumbled for the latch, finally figuring it out and getting in. He settled himself as I accelerated slowly.

"You will stay in the carriage when we get there," he grumbled, stomping the snow from his boots, and I just smirked.

Yeah. Right.



* * *





Chapter 7





Faint on the cold air was the singing of Christmas carolers, obvious now that I'd turned the car off. My car door thumped shut, the sound muffed from the mounds of snow the plows had thrown up, and I breathed slowly, pulling the crisp night deep into me. Above, the stars looked especially sharp from the dry air. It had gotten cold, ice-cracking cold. The faint breeze seemed to go right through my coat. It was about four in the morning. Only Inderlanders and crazy humans were up this time of night, which was fine by me.

Pierce's door shut a moment behind mine, and I smiled at him over the car. He didn't smile back, his brow furrowed in an expression of coming nastiness. While he paced around to my side, i leaned against the cold metal and gazed at the house we had parked across from.

We were way up in the hills in the better parts of town where the well-to-do had lived ever since inclined-plane railways had made it easy to make it up the steep inclines. The house in question was older than that, making it remote and lonely in Pierce's time. It was a monster of a house, clearly added to and rebuilt along with the times, with multiple stories, turrets, and a wrap-around porch of smooth river rocks: old money, big trees, and a fantastic view of Cincinnati. Bright Christmas decorations were everywhere, flashing in an eerie silent display.

The sound of Pierce's shoes crunching on the frozen slush jolted me into motion, and I pushed off the car and headed to the wide porch.

"I would request you retire into the carriage and wait," he said from beside me.

I kept my eyes forward as we crossed the street. "It's called a car, and you can request all you want, but it's not going to happen."

We reached the shoveled sidewalk and Pierce grabbed my wrist. I jerked to a stop, startled at the strength he was using.

"Forgive me, Miss Rachel," he said, lips pressed thin and tight. "You're full of grit, but I simply will not be able to live with myself if harm comes to you because of me."

My own anger stirred. "Then it's a good thing you're not alive, huh."

Shaking his head, he started to tug me back to the car. "I'm sorry for using my advantage to force you. Truly I am."

Here comes the him-hoisting-me-over-his-shoulder bit, with me kicking and screaming as he locks me in my own car? Not going to happen. "Let go," I threatened as he pulled me a step. "I mean it, Pierce. Let go, or you're going to be in a world of hurt." But he didn't.