Holidays are Hell

I had no idea what he was saying, but Pierce had us on the first step before the first shout. My head whipped around, and I stumbled. Two brutish men were heading our way, and with a little gasp, I pushed Pierce down faster. A chime rang through the air, and my skin prickled. "Lock down!" someone shouted.

"Damnation," Pierce swore, but our feet were still moving, and we had passed the second floor without trouble. My pulse was too fast, and my lungs hurt, but I wouldn't slow down. We wouldn't be caught because of me. Apart from the two guys following us and the uniformed woman standing in front of the doors with her arms crossed over her chest, everyone seemed content to watch. Actually, they were moving back, making room. Swell.

"Mistress witch," Pierce said, his tone terse as we neared the ground floor, my steps barely keeping up with his. "I'd respectfully ask that I might commune a line through you." He glanced at me, shocking me again with how blue his eyes were. "To help make our escape. If there were another way, I would use it."

I slid my hand into his, gripping it firmly. "Pull on a line." He shot a bewildered look at me and I shouted, "Commune with the ever-after!"

My breath hissed in as he did, and I squeezed his hand to tell him it was okay. Power burned like ice as we found the first floor, and I felt my tongue tingle. Pierce gathered himself, and with a shout, a head-sized sphere of ever-after enveloped his free hand.

That came through me, I thought in wonder, even as we continued to head for the doors.

Pierce threw the ball. The witch waiting for us yelped and dove for the floor. Green power edged in red and black hit the glass doors, spreading out like slime. A boom shook the air and almost sent me falling. Glass pushed outward in a silent cascade.

"Are you well, Miss Rachel?" Pierce said earnestly when my ears recovered.

I looked up as he steadied me with his grip tight on my elbow. For an instant we stood, focused on each other, linked by way of the line and our need to escape. My inner ear pulsed from the blast. Behind me, shouts started to make sense. Past the shattered doors came the sound of traffic and the crisp cold of a winter night. The witch on the floor looked up from around her fallen hair, shocked. "Wow," I said, and Pierce's concern eased.

Satisfied I had my balance, he let go of my elbow but kept our fingers entwined. "Allow me, mistress witch," he said gallantly, escorting me through the broken glass.

"Hey! Stop!" someone called. My pulse raced, and knowing my mom was going to "give me Jesse" when she found out, I nevertheless stepped elegantly over the jagged remnants of the door and onto the salted sidewalk.

"A moment," Pierce said, turning, and I felt another strong pull through me when he ran two fingers across both the lintel and threshold of the wide doors and a green sheet of ever-after swam up from the frozen slush sidewalk to seal everyone inside. "Now we may depart," he said exuberantly, the light shining out from the I.S. offices showing his good mood. "Perhaps a carriage is in order," he said, whistling as if he had grown up in Cincy, but he had watched Robbie do the same thing. "I fear we should make an unpleasant haste. The ward won't last long. And we must stay holding hands until then."

I grinned. When he was excited, he didn't stop to think what he was saying and was charmingly elegant. "Maybe we should walk a few blocks so they don't know what cab we take?" I suggested. "Otherwise they'll just radio ahead."

Pierce's brow creased, and he waved away the cab that had pulled up. "Like the music from the boxes?" he said, and I nodded. It was close enough.

"Then we walk," he said. With a last wave to the angry I.S. officers behind the green-tinted sheet of ever-after, he tightened his grip on my fingers, and we strode down the sidewalk.

My pulse was fast and I felt breathless. I'd never done anything like this before, and I felt alive. For the first time in my freaking life, I felt alive—the adrenaline making me light and airy and my steps long and sure. The snow drifted down peacefully, and I wished that I could do this forever—walk with a man's hand in mine, happy and pleasantly warm with this alive feeling running through me. He wasn't much taller than me, and our steps were closely matched.

I glanced behind us at the retreating I.S. building, then shyly at Pierce, but his attention was on the buildings and storefront displays. I eyed the colored lights and the happy people walking in the snow with last-minute solstice and Christmas shoppers finding a final, perfect gift.

"No beggars," he whispered.

"Well, a few," I said, abruptly seeing the street in an entirely different way. "But they're probably at the square, partying."