Tangled Threads

31

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Part of it was Bria, of course, and everything that had been said between us. But mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about what my sister had told me — about the man with the green eyes who’d found her wandering around in the forest after Mab had murdered our mother and older sister.

So I got out of bed, headed downstairs, and went into Fletcher Lane’s office.

I clicked on the light and stood in the doorway, staring into the room in front of me. The old man’s office had always been something of a mess, with papers and folders and pens scattered everywhere, from his battered desk to the bookcases that hugged the walls to the filing cabinets on either side of the door. Supposedly there was some kind of method to the madness, although I’d never quite gotten the grasp of it. Fletcher had always claimed that there was no need to lock his office, because if someone ever broke in, she’d give up trying to find what she was looking for out of sheer frustration. The only reason I’d been able to find LaFleur’s file was because it had actually been in one of the filing cabinets in its proper place.

Even though he’d been dead for a couple of months now, I just hadn’t had the heart to clean out Fletcher’s office yet. I supposed that part of me wanted to keep everything the way that it had been the day he’d died, as if that would somehow bring him back. The air even still smelled faintly of him — like sugar, spice, and vinegar swirled all together.

But the old man wasn’t coming back, and I wanted answers. So I drew in a breath, stepped into the room, and started going through the stacks of papers.

An hour later, I was ready to give up, just as Fletcher had intended. Because I’d found nothing. No files, no papers, nothing that gave me any clue as to why the old man had rescued Bria or how he’d even known she was in trouble in the first place. Once again, Fletcher had kept secrets from me, and now, since the old man was gone, I doubted I’d ever get the answers to my questions.

Tired and disgusted, I headed toward the door. I reached over to flip the light off to go back to bed when something winked at me from one of the bookcases. I looked over and noticed a crystal paperweight sitting on the shelf — one that I’d never seen before. Of course, I hadn’t been in Fletcher’s office for quite some time before he’d died. Curious, though, I walked over to the bookcase. It took me only half a second to realize that the paperweight was shaped like a small circle surrounded by eight thin rays.

A spider rune. My rune.

But the real kicker was the slim folder underneath the glinting crystal.

Unlike the other manila folders that littered the rest of the room, this one was the same dark brown as the bookcase, which made it practically invisible, along with the fact that most of it had been shoved back and under the books on that particular shelf. It looked like something Fletcher had just put on the bookcase and forgotten about, but I knew it was more than that. The spider rune — shaped paperweight told me as much. Fletcher had left it here for me to find. It was just my own fault that I hadn’t bothered to look for it — until now.

My hands shaking just a bit, I slipped the folder off the bookshelf. For Gin, the old man’s handwriting scrawled across the front in silver ink. I stared at the words a moment, then went over, sat down behind the desk, opened the folder, and started to read.

It was all there, written down in black-and-white.

Everything Fletcher Lane had observed about my family, every open door and unlocked window at our mansion, every single plan he’d made to get the job done when Mab had hired him, had hired the Tin Man, to assassinate my family.

I read the words, and it was almost like I could hear Fletcher’s voice in my mind, patiently explaining things to me.

It started out like any other hit, the old man wrote. I was to kill your mother, Eira Snow, and leave you and your sisters unharmed. I would have done it too. But Mab changed her mind and wanted the three of you dead as well. You know that I don’t do that sort of thing.

“No kids,” I whispered in the utter silence of the office. “Ever.”

Part of the assassin code that the old man had taught me — the same one he’d lived by for so many years. And apparently, the reason Bria and I were still alive today.

I kept reading. There was more — so much more. Fletcher chronicled it all. How he’d used his various contacts to tell Mab that he didn’t murder children. How he told her to hire someone else to do the job. How she’d threatened to find and kill him for turning her down. And finally, how Mab had sent some of her goons after him, while she went to our house to murder my family.

Even as an assassin, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing, not while innocent children were being targeted. So I tried to stop it; the old man’s handwriting spelled out the words.

But I was detained by some of Mab’s men. By the time I got there, it was too late. The mansion was fully engulfed in flames, and Mab was gone. But I found some tracks leading away from the house, and I knew that someone had survived. I found Bria early the next morning, wandering around in the forest, babbling about how she’d run away and how her mother and sisters were dead. So I took her and hid her until I could find a good home for her.

I thought that you were dead, Gin, until you showed up in the alley behind the Pork Pit all those weeks later. You know what happened after that.

I did the best I could for Bria — and for you, Gin. Keeping the two of you apart was the best way I knew to keep you hidden, to keep you safe from Mab, to give you time to grow up, to give me time to train you to be the Spider, the assassin you needed to be to finally defeat her. I hope you know that. I hope you can understand everything I did. I hope you can forgive me someday.

“I know you did your best, Fletcher,” I whispered. “I know you did.”

There was more — so much more. But the tears in my eyes blurred the words too much for me to read them. At least for tonight. So I closed the folder, laid my head down on the desk, and stared at the spider rune — shaped crystal paperweight until the sun rose over the eastern mountains.

The next day — Christmas — we all gathered at Owen’s mansion.

Me, Finn, and the Deveraux sisters, who brought Vinnie and Natasha Volga along with them. All crowding into Owen’s downstairs living room, along with Eva and the two people that she’d invited over for the holiday celebration — her best friend, Violet Fox, and her grandfather, Warren T. Fox. Xavier was there too, with Roslyn Phillips, who’d also brought her sister, Lisa, and young niece, Catherine.

They were all in the living room, drinking my special Christmas punch, shaking the presents that they’d bought for each other, laughing, talking, smiling.

The only person I cared about who wasn’t here was Bria.

I hadn’t heard from my baby sister since our talk at the Pork Pit yesterday. Xavier had pulled me aside earlier and told me that she was working today so that some of the other cops could spend the holiday with their families. I could have told the giant that Bria had a family too, if only she’d realize it, but I held my tongue. No need to ruin Xavier’s day.

I spent the morning in the kitchen, whipping up a Christmas lunch that would have done any Southern hostess proud. A tart but sweet cranberry sauce, roasted vegetables, fluffy mashed potatoes with plenty of real, fattening butter, sour cream, and cheddar cheese in them, and for the centerpiece, there was an enormous, spiral-cut ham with a brown sugar glaze. And then there were the desserts. I’d made a little something for everyone, from yummy fruit pies and warm berry cobblers topped with vanilla bean ice cream, to sweet sugar cookies and rich, chewy fruitcakes. I had a crowd to feed, and I’d outdone myself with all the dishes.

I might not be the most demonstrative person when it came to telling people how I felt about them, how much I cared about them, but I could sure make them a meal that they’d never forget.

We’d already eaten, and now I was back in the kitchen, washing the dishes while the others opened their presents. Of course, the ones most excited by the gifts were Roslyn’s niece, Catherine, and Natasha. The little girls tore into the wrapping paper, barely pausing to admire the pretty packages before destroying them to get to what was waiting inside. The squeak, squawk and squeal of new toys filled the air.

“Here’s the last of the dinner dishes,” Owen said, carrying a final set of plates into the kitchen and dumping them into the sink. “You want me to dry while you wash?”

I wiped my hands off on a dish towel and turned to face him. “Sure, after you open your present.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “A present? For moi?”

“Yes, for you.”

I reached across the counter, grabbed the present I’d put there earlier this morning, and held it out to him. The gift was wrapped in candy-cane-striped paper and had the small look of a jewelry box.

Owen took the box and carefully shook it, but no noise came from inside it.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, did you?” I said in a teasing tone.

He grinned. “I had hopes.”

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Owen shook the box one more time before tearing into it just as Catherine and Natasha had done in the other room. He ripped off the paper, popped open the box, and paused, staring at what was inside the small container.

He fished out the item and held it up for me to see. “A key?”

“I admit that it isn’t nearly as nice or as inspired as the new silverstone knives that you made for me,” I said. “But I have been busy these last few days.”

Owen stared at me with his violet eyes. “And what does this key go to?”

My heart, because you’ve proved yourself worthy of it. That’s what I thought about saying, that’s what part of me wanted to say to him. But I didn’t. I might not have much experience when it came to this relationship business, but I knew it was too soon for that. Especially since I was still processing this new warmth I felt for Owen and how best to handle it — and him.

“It goes to Fletcher’s house,” I said. “My house. It occurred to me that you’ve never been over there while we’ve been together. I thought you might like to see it sometime. Anytime that you’d like.”

“I see.”

I stared at Owen, wondering if it was enough, if maybe I should have gotten him something more substantial — like a holiday tie or a light-up Christmas sweater.

Then he looked up at me, a slow smile spreading across his face, softening his features and warming his violet eyes, and I knew I’d done the right thing. “One question. Are you going to try to kill me the way you probably do all of your uninvited guests? Because I’d hate for my first visit to get off to a bad start.”

“Oh, I think I can make an exception for you,” I replied in a teasing tone.

Owen joined in my soft laughter. He drew me toward him, and our lips met in a hot, long kiss that made me wish the party were already over so we could be alone—

The doorbell rang, the merry chime echoing through the house.

Startled, I drew back from Owen, looking in that direction before my eyes went back to his. He nodded, telling me that I should go get it. We both knew there was only one person it could be. Only one other person knew I was here today, that we were all gathered here today. Only one other person had been invited.

So I walked to the front door, drew in a breath, and opened it.

And there she stood, her cheeks pink from the December cold and the thick flakes of snow that swirled around lazily in the air. Detective Bria Coolidge. My baby sister. She wore her long coat as she always did and held a small wrapped box in her hand, about the same size as the one I’d just given to Owen.

“Gene — Gin.”

“Bria.”

We stood there staring at each other before I remembered my manners and stepped back.

“Come in. Please.”

Bria hesitated, then stepped inside. I hurried to shut the door behind her before she could change her mind and leave. The sounds of the others’ laughter drifted down the hall to us, along with the holiday music that someone had popped into the entertainment system. The soft strains of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” filled in the silence between us. Bria stood where she was just inside the foyer, uncertainty flashing in her blue eyes.

She drew in a breath, much as I had a moment ago. “Here,” she said, holding out the present. “This is for you.”

I took the small box from her. “Wait here. I have something for you too.”

I went into the kitchen, retrieved the other special present that I’d brought with me today, and stepped back into the hallway. Bria hadn’t moved an inch from where I’d left her. She stood tall, still, and frozen, like she was afraid to move, like it would somehow hurt her.

I held out the square wrapped box, and she took it from me. We stood there, both staring at the presents in our hands.

“Well,” I said in an awkward voice. “I guess we should open these.”

Bria let out a weak laugh. “That is what people do.”

We each tore into the wrapping paper. Bria was in more of a nervous hurry than I was, because she got to her present first. She opened the top of the box and pulled out a snow globe, which I’d found during my last-minute shopping yesterday. I’d managed to get to one of the malls an hour before it closed, then had spent the rest of the evening prepping my Christmas feast.

Bria held the globe up so that snow swirled through the scene — two young girls sitting on the rim of a fountain in a beautiful garden.

“I saw that and thought of you,” I said. “Thought of us. Do you — do you remember the courtyard where we used to play?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I do.”

We didn’t say anything, each of us lost in our own memories of the past. Some good, some bad, some best forgotten.

“It’s beautiful,” Bria said. “Thank you. But how did you know that I like snow globes?”

I hesitated. “I saw some of them in your house a few weeks ago, the night Elliot Slater attacked you.”

“The night you came in and saved me from him,” she finished.

I nodded.

Bria looked at me. “You know, I never thanked you for that. Slater would have killed me that night if it hadn’t been for you.”

I shrugged. “I was just doing what anyone would do.”

“No,” Bria said. “You were doing what a sister would do. Something I finally realized today. Now, open your present. Please.”

I hesitated before lifting the lid on the tiny box she’d given me. A small piece of jewelry lay inside — a ring. A thin silverstone band with a tiny spider rune stamped in the middle of it. I recognized it at once. It was one of the three rings that Bria always wore on her left index finger. My ring.

“I can’t take this,” I said. “This is yours. Your ring. I’ve never seen you without it.”

Bria shook her head. “It’s not really my ring. It’s yours. I had it and the others made the day I graduated from the police academy. It’s what I wore to remind myself of you, to remember my promise to come back to Ashland someday and find a way to make Mab pay for taking you and Mother and Annabella away from me. But now that you’re here with me, I don’t need the ring anymore. I want you to have it. Please, Gin?”

There was nothing I could do but put it on. To my surprise, the ring slipped easily onto my right index finger. It fit perfectly.

“Well,” Bria said, shifting on her feet, that uncertain look filling her face again. “I should go. It sounds like you have a party to get back to in there.”

She turned toward the door, but I grabbed her arm. I tried not to notice how she tensed at my touch. Time, I told myself. It would just take some time.

“Stay,” I said. “Please. It would mean a lot to me.”

Bria hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded. She took off her coat and put it on the rack with the others. Then, our shoulders not quite touching, we walked down the hall and into the living room. The others stopped their conversation as we stepped into the room. They all knew what Bria meant to me, what having her here meant to me.

“Everyone,” I said in a loud voice. “This is my baby sister, Bria.”

Nobody said anything for a moment. Then everyone moved forward at once, welcoming Bria to the party and into our little family. Forever.

I stepped back out of the way and let the others talk to Bria. She turned first one way then another, saying hello to everyone. Roslyn, Xavier, the Deveraux sisters, the Foxes, the Volgas. This went on for quite a while, but I was content to just stand aside and watch. Finally the others gave Bria some breathing room, and she wandered over into the corner, probably just to find a moment’s peace before jumping back into the fray.

And that’s when Finnegan Lane finally made his move.

“You know, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other now,” Finn said in a smooth voice, sidling up to her.

Bria gave him a cool look. “Just because you’re Gin’s foster brother doesn’t mean I have to be nice to you.”

“No, it doesn’t, although I imagine it will make things easier for Gin if we at least try to get along.”

Bria snorted, not buying Finn’s lame line for a second.

Instead of being offended, Finn just grinned at her. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

Bria’s blue eyes narrowed, but once again, I saw a hot spark of interest glittering in her gaze. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was attracted to Finn. “No. I think you’re the kind of man who’s had it far too easy over the years, especially when it comes to women. At least, that’s the rumor I’ve heard.”

Finn clutched his hand over his heart. “Oh, detective. How you wound me.”

Bria snorted again.

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve got tradition on my side,” Finn said, his grin widening.

Bria frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Finn pointed up at the ball of mistletoe hanging over their heads. It took Bria a second to realize what the mistletoe was — and what Finn intended to do next.

Before she could protest or step back, Finn grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, dipped her low, and soundly kissed her. The motion surprised my sister, and she didn’t even have time to put up a token struggle. Not that she would have anyway.

Because after a moment, her hands, which had been windmilling in the air, settled on Finn’s broad shoulders. Her fingers dug into his muscles, and I couldn’t tell if she was trying to push him away or pull him closer. For his part, Finn was kissing my sister for all he was worth, holding her close in a way I’d never seen him do with another woman before.

“Well, that could be interesting,” Owen murmured in my ear. “How do you feel about that?”

Finn and Bria broke apart, still holding on to each other and both breathing heavy. Finn put Bria back up on her feet and gave her another suave smile, although his face was faintly troubled, as if he’d enjoyed that kiss a little more than he’d thought he would. As if he’d felt a little more than he’d thought he would — maybe even a little too much for comfort.

Bria glowered at him and turned away, but not before I saw a small, almost triumphant smile curve her lips as well.

“I think Finn may have finally met his match,” I said.

Owen put his arms around me, and I leaned my head against his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Gin,” Owen said in a quiet voice.

But was it really merry? I might have killed Elektra LaFleur and ended the threat that the assassin posed to us all, but I hadn’t accomplished my ultimate goal — eliminating Mab Monroe. Until the Fire elemental was dead, we were all still in danger, no matter how safe we might feel right now.

Then I looked out at the people in the living room. Finn, the Deveraux sisters, Eva Grayson, Roslyn and her family, Xavier, the Foxes, Vinnie and Natasha. And Bria, finally back in my life after so many years gone. Everyone smiling and laughing. Everyone warm, loved, and happy. For this moment, for this one day, everything was perfect, and I knew I couldn’t wish for anything more. Today, I’d take what happiness I could get. Tomorrow, I’d get down to the business of taking out Mab — once and for all.

“Merry Christmas, Owen,” I said in a soft voice, echoing his sentiment.

And it was.