She grasped his hand. “We must leave.”
He nodded, and together they took one last look at the sleeping children. Already she missed them. Who would find them homes now?
“I hate to leave them,” Nico whispered.
She squeezed his hand. “Me too.” Her words swallowed by the night.
He kissed the back of her hand, and they left through the door that led into the large entry hall. And ran right into a line of four huge men.
Nico yelped. He threw Jane behind him. He stood up to his full, silvered height. He was ready for a fight. “Good evening, gentlemen. Glad you’re here.”
One of the burly guards stepped forward, his face pulled into a lethal scowl. He cracked the knuckles of both hands. He loomed over them long enough for Jane to know, know to the very tips of her toes, that she would not survive to see morning. “You have gifts for all of us?” The man’s brow remained furrowed, but a blush, bright enough to be visible in the dark, rushed across his cheeks. “We didn’t get nothin’ fer you.”
Oh merciful heavens. The Kringles weren’t going to kill them.
Nico reached into his sack and pulled out five silver figurines.
The door behind Jane swung open, and the remaining Kringle returned. “Sleepin’ like angels, they are. And it’s warm as a summer’s day in there. And you should see the little toys he’s given ’em.” He sniffed, rubbed his fist into his eye. “Adorable.”
“Speaking of…” Nico reached into the sack he carried. “Here.” He dropped a small, finely shaped figure of silver into each man’s hand. “Now close your palms for five seconds or so then open.”
The men closed their palms, mouthed a count to five, then opened them. Quiet descended. Then a volley of sniffs like pattering rain on the roof.
“Got somethin’ in my eye.”
“Need to get back to my post.”
“I had a pet mouse looked just like this once.”
“Never been given anything so nice.”
“Merry Christmas, my fine fellows.” Nico patted the nearest one on the shoulder, and they all filed out, leaving him and Jane alone in the empty hall. “Well,” he said, taking her hands. “Now what, Miss Dean?”
She didn’t know. And she didn’t have time to think about it. Because behind Nico, her brother stalked toward them, a large and heavy-looking candlestick raised high above his head.
10
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Nico saw trouble in Jane’s eyes before he heard the boot step or felt the tingle that meant danger climb up his spine. He spun around in just enough time to catch the duke’s swinging arm, to keep the candlestick from crashing against his skull.
Jane screamed, a sound that turned muffled partway through. But Nico couldn’t see her anymore. Morington walked him backward, his face carved by anger.
Nico fought against him, shoved him backward, then ran. He didn’t want the children waking to the grunts and bone cracks of a fight.
He stepped into the snow-covered garden, his panting breath fogging the air. The snow had stopped, the clouds receded, and the moon was full and bright. He could see the outline of the path through the rosebushes, and he ran.
But Morington was on him, a large hand cuffing his shoulder, swinging him around.
Nico was ready, and he used the force of the spin to slam a fist into Morington’s face.
The duke cursed and dropped the candlestick to cradle his nose with both hands. Blood dripped onto the cold, white carpet beneath them. Slowly, over the claws of his hands, he raised his eyes, and just as slowly, a fog rolled in, thick and eerie. It crept out of the ground and through the tangled rosebushes. It pressed Nico flat from the sky, and soon he could not see a thing. He cursed, and the duke chuckled.
Footsteps, but blinded by the fog, Nico could not see how close the man was. He stepped backward from each footstep he heard stalking him through the garden. The fog could not have rolled in so completely so quickly.
A glamour. He didn’t need Temple here to tell him that.
“Shit.” A thud followed the curse somewhere in the fog, the sound of a body hitting the ground.
