“What we all want to know,” someone interrupted from the doorway. Dylan didn’t recognize the voice. When he looked over, he didn’t recognize the face either. Not until Gwen went to shoo her out and the tall, grim-faced woman bundled up in a snow-damp jacket and beanie flashed her badge to forestall the objection. “Detective Asma Lund. Mr. Hollie and I have met before.”
“I’ve already told you what happened,” Dylan said. Most of it… Enough.
Asma Lund knew about the otherworld and the creatures that came from it. She knew that Dylan knew too, but nothowhe was part of it. Dylan wasn’t about to try and explain.
Goblins and ghouls were one thing, but asking someone to believe in Santa was different. When was that going to work outside of a Hallmark Christmas movie?
Dylan bent over to grab a spare pair of jeans from the bottom of his locker. Dizziness washed over him, and he had to brace his hand against the edge of the door to steady himself. He closed his eyes briefly as he waited for it to pass and then scrambled clumsily into his jeans.
“If you leave, you know it’s against medical advice,” Lund said. She stood with her back turned as she pulled her gloves off with her teeth. “And some people might think it makes you look like you have something to hide.”
Dylan snorted as he pulled denim up over his cold backside. “Then they haven’t seen me in a hospital gown.”
Speaking of which…
He stripped it off, the papery fabric noisy as it crumpled in his hands, and looked down as he buttoned up his fly. His fingers were stiff, still numb from the painkillers. It was harder than usual, but easier than it should have been.
Skin split, blood running down his arm like water, and pain ran hot and liquid through Dylan. Teethscrapedmeat and nerves away from the bone, and the cold had sunk into his marrow…
Dylan tightened his mouth and swallowed the bile the memory had conjured up. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers. They all responded with a full range of motion. That would have been a good resultaftersurgery, not just being patched up and bandaged. He curled his fingers into his palm until it hurt, but==
“You might want to think about that attitude,” Lund said as she turned around to face him. “Two women are missing, and right now you’re the only lead we’ve got. That makes me the only friend you’ve got.”
Dylan grabbed the hospital-issued Belling Memorial hoodie that had been in his locker for over a year. He pulled it on, the sleeve tight around his bandaged forearm, and zipped it up.
“Last year you sold me out to the Wolves,” Dylan pointed out.
Lund didn’t look amused.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.” She reached down and pulled the hem of her sweater up to show her stomach. The scar ran vertically up from under her jeans, curved around her belly button, and was still pink and raw looking after twelve months. Lund waited a beat and then yanked the fabric back down. “I already paid the price for that. Now it’s time they did the same.”
What happened to Lund hadn’t been Dylan’s fault. Apparently that didn’t stop him feeling guilty about it, though. That didn’t seem fair. He sat down heavily on one of the bench seats, the cold of the tiles seeping into his bare feet, and looked up at Lund.
“And I don’t have anything else to tell you,” he said. “I don’t know why the wolves are back or why they took my partner and our patient.”
“If you did, would you tell me?” Lund asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said quickly. He would. Maybe it would have beenafterhe told Somerset, but he’d have told her. “Alice is my friend. Irene was our responsibility. I’ll take whatever help I can get if it gets them both home safe for Christmas.”
Lund considered that. She finally nodded. “OK. You keep me in the loop of what’s happening on Somerset’s side of the fence, and I’ll do my best to keep your face off the evening news. Deal?”
She raised her dark, bar-straight eyebrows expectantly and waited. Dylan let her as he weighed up his options. It didn’t take long, to be fair. He didn’t have many.
“I’ll do what I can,” Dylan hedged. “Somerset doesn’t always tell me everything.”
Make that Somerset didn’t tell Dylan anything that he didn’thaveto. There was apparently a lot that Dylan was safer not knowing, and the Yule Lads rarely bothered to ask if he was willing to take the risk.
One day Dylan was going to look into what all the different Santas that came before him had died of. He was sure “frustration” would be a contributing factor.
Lund pulled her gloves back out of her pocket and put them on. She laced her fingers together and flexed them to bed the fabric into place.
“Fair enough,” she said. “There’s only so much I can do to keep the spotlight off you, anyhow. The COO of Demre and Hill didn’t exactly help your case when he told us that Irene tried to refuse treatment rather than let you anywhere near her.”
“She changed her mind.”
“You talked her into it, and now she’s missing.” Lund paused for a moment and then scrunched her nose up. “It doesn’t look good. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I’m about the only one. So if I was you? I’d tell Somerset that if he wants to protect you, he should tell you the full story. Before something else incriminating turns up and my co-workers and I have to piece it all together ourselves. Have a good day, Mr. Hollie.”
She dipped her chin in a mock polite nod and left, zipping her coat up as she went out the door.
