The intrusive guest

The fire was a roaring beast now, the seasoned oak I’d hauled through the blizzard finally surrendering its heat. We spent the next few hours fucking senselessly, a frantic effort to erase the memory of the frozen dark. The friction and the heat from the electric blanket finally reached deep enough into my marrow that it was safe to shower.

"You're shaking less," Vic whispered, his breath ghosting over my temple as he held me tight under the heavy layers.

"The heat is finally catching up," I managed, my voice still a bit gravelly from the cold air. I looked at him, tracing the familiar lines of his jaw. "I really thought I’d be waking up in a snowbank, Vic."

"I told you," he said, his grip tightening for a second. "I don't lose what's mine to a storm. Especially not you."

As I stood on shaky legs and padded toward the small bathroom, Vic didn't let the momentum of our recovery die. He stripped the bed with efficient, sharp movements, gathering the sheets that still carried the faint, metallic scent of the trek. He tossed the bedding into the dying embers of the fireplace, the fabric catching and curling into black ash. He quickly added more seasoned wood, the flames leaping up to lick the chimney, then he turned and joined me in the shower.

The spray was a shock—stinging against my hypersensitive skin. We didn’t linger in the shower because the hot water heater didn't last long. Vic’s hands were steady, working a bar of rough soap over my shoulders, washing away the last of the wood dust and the dried blood that wasn't mine.

"Easy," he murmured as I winced when the water hit a particularly raw patch of skin on my shoulder. "I've got you."

"The water feels like needles," I admitted, leaning my forehead against his chest.

"I know. It means the blood is moving again," he replied, his voice low and grounding. He kissed the top of my wet head. "Stay under it just a minute longer. Then we get you back to the fire."

We didn’t linger long in the shower as the water heater was small. Vic helped me shower though he knew that I didn’t need the help. After we both rinsed off the final time, he turned the water off.

He stepped out first, drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist. While I finished drying off, I could hear him moving in the other room, remaking the bed with fresh bedding he’d pulled from the cedar chest. I pulled on some of the clothing I had left in my bag—a pair of thick leggings and an oversized wool sweater that felt like a secondary skin.

I went out and sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace next to Vic, the heat radiating against my shins. For the first time in forty-eight hours, the silence felt peaceful.

That peace lasted exactly ten seconds.

The heavy oak door slammed open, the iron latch screeching as it hit the stone wall. The sub-zero wind howled into the room, scattering ash across the hearth. Before I could reach my bag for both my knife and dagger, Sera walked in and closed the door behind her, the wood groaning as the bolt slid home.

I froze, my hand halfway to the strap of my bag. I was shocked that it was her; the last time we saw each other in person, we were trying to severely maim the other. The memory of that encounter flashed through my mind like a fresh wound. Trusting her via technology was another thing entirely.

“Deppgrl,” she sighed as she came over to where I was. She looked worn, her gear dusted with the storm’s white grit.

“Sera, what are you doing here?” I asked her as I stayed put on the rug. My heart was hammering, but the heat of the fire and Vic’s presence beside me kept me anchored.

“The bigger question is what is he doing here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as they flicked toward Vic.

“He rescued me, Sera,” I said. “I saved myself from being killed by someone I once knew, but he saved me from dying due to the elements.”

“Now, I can no longer protect either one of you,” she said, her voice dropping into a register that made the hair on my arms stand up.

“Sera,” I said as I got up, the movement slow and deliberate. I stood before her, the firelight casting long, flickering shadows against the wall. “We are friends and enemies at the same time. I never asked for the protection you offered, though it’s greatly appreciated.”

Sera didn't move, her gaze locked onto mine. "Appreciation won't stop what's coming, Deppgrl. You brought a ghost back into the light, and now the light is fading."

“Who is after me now?” I asked, not sure if I could trust her.

Sera’s jaw tightened. "It’s your uncle Charles," she said, her voice sharp as a blade.

"Or it could be you, right, Mimi?" I said, using the name that cut through her cold veneer.

“I’m not Mimi,” she stuttered.

“Oh really??” I asked. “The real Serafina and I have never met face to face.”

In the quickest second that I have ever experienced, I swung my leg at Mimi’s ankle, knocking her down.

She hit the floor hard, the breath leaving her in a sharp wheeze. Before she could roll or reach for a weapon hidden in her gear, Vic was off the rug. He didn't even have his boots on, but he moved with the predatory grace I'd almost forgotten he possessed. He planted a knee firmly in the center of her back, pinning her to the stone floor while his hand clamped around the back of her neck.

"Start talking," Vic growled, his voice vibrating with a threat that made the roaring fire seem quiet. "And if you use Deppgrl’s name again, I'll make sure you never speak another word."

Mimi struggled for a moment, her face pressed against the cold stone, before she went limp in a tactical surrender. "You're making a mistake," she hissed, though the stutter was gone, replaced by a desperate edge. "There’s a man coming for her... he doesn't care who is standing in the way."