She was beautiful the way snow was cold. It was a fact.
“No. Not a Yule Lad anymore,” she said as she pulled a big, stained cloth out of her pocket and started to wipe her hands. Her eyes regarded Somerset levelly before they flicked to Dylan and narrowed, something cruel in the creases around her eyes. “Him, I know, but who are you?”
“Nobody,” Dylan said.
The woman grinned. There was no warmth in it, and her teeth were sharp. “Oh, nobody isnobody,”she said. “Only liars and weaklings claim to be. Now, which are you?”
Before Dylan had to answer, Somerset stepped between them. “He’s with me,” he said. “Is that a problem?”
The woman laughed. “Of course not, boy,” she said, cheerful again. “Everyone loves a potluck.”
…
It could have been a joke. The chill that dripped down Dylan’s back didn’t see the funny side. He shifted uneasily and took half a step backward. Somerset reached back and grabbed him by the collar.
“I said he was mine,” Somerset said, his voice rasp-rough and flat. Under other circumstances, that word, in that tone, would have given Dylan goosebumps. It was a sign Dylan was out of his depth that it only gave him a shiver. “Not community property.”
Without the indignity of peeking out from behind Somerset like a child, Dylan couldn’t see the woman’s expression. He could hear her pointedly dramatic sigh.
“I suppose you won’t tie him up outside with the dogs then,” she said.
Dylan hadn’t noticed the two mastiffs at the side of the barn until now. They both lifted their heads from their paws as one and yawned, the insides of their mouths very red and their teeth very sharp. Honey-colored eyes regarded Dylan with interest, and he resisted the impulse to try and hide closer against Somerset’s body.
“I need to talk to you,” Somerset said, ignoring her suggestion. He stepped to the side so he wasn’t Dylan’s shield anymore and let go of him. “It’s important.”
The woman narrowed her eyes as she took a second, harder look at Dylan. Whatever she saw made her suck her teeth and then throw her still-filthy hands up.
“As you wish,” she said. “I’ve twins on the way, though, and I’m not leaving them, so you’ll have to do it here.”
She turned around and stalked back into the dimly lit barn.
The barn smelled awful.
Dylan balanced precariously on a three-legged stool and tried to breathe through his mouth. It wasn’t a bad smell exactly, but it was strong enough that he couldtasteit. The pregnant reindeer stood in a nearby stall, dark, heavy belly slung low and silvery over-coat dull, and breathed noisily. The farm hand stood beside her and smoothed his hands over her distended side while he crooned something low and comforting.
His boss ignored him as she hunted through her rucksack, muttering darkly under her breath as if what she was looking for was elusive. Then she made a satisfied noise and straightened up.
“Cocoa?” she finally offered as she held up a tartan-patterned flask.
Dylan started to say yes, but Somerset stood on his foot. He bit back a yelp of surprise and remembered Somerset’s directions earlier about anything on offer.
“No,” he said as he tugged his foot free. “I’m lactose-intolerant.”
She laughed, a rich, belly laugh of real humor, and looked expectantly at Somerset. “And you?”
“I don’t like to play into the stereotypes.”
The woman shrugged. “Your loss.”
She sat on a camping stool and twisted the lid off the thermos. Steam wreathed around her fingers as she poured herself a glug of chocolate into a cup, then downed it like a shot of whiskey and wiped the back of her dirty hand over her mouth.
“Go on then,” she said as she sat back. Her eyes were cool and measuring, dark under heavy brows. “What do you want, Yule Lad.”
Dylan made a mental note to ask whatthatmeant later. For now, he held his tongue and tried to ignore the ache in his face. The cold had kept it numb, but as it warmed up, he was reminded that he’dstartedthe day with a broken nose.
Somerset crossed his arms over his chest.
“What have you heard from Winter?” he asked.
