37. Vesper #3
The furniture is all carved from ice the same as the walls, but the seats we’re forced on are at least covered in thick pelts from animals neither one of us know. The cold doesn’t Leech through the fur as the mugs are thrust into our hands and we’re forced to stare at Gustav.
“You seem awfully familiar,” Locke says, staring at him. This is clearly another brother of Larry, and Billy, and . . . I’ve forgotten all their names at this point. None of them ever own up to being twins, or being just one man, so it’s safe to assume this one will be the same way.
Gustav smiles. “I get that a lot.” He nods to the hot cocoa. “If you’d like more, feel free to ask. It’s unlimited refills.”
I glance at the contents of the mug and then over at Locke. If this wasn’t a safehouse where it’s guaranteed that we can’t be hurt, I’d be worried this drink was poisoned. As it is, it doesn’t really feel like we have much choice in the matter. So, I lift it up to my lips and take a hesitant sip.
Steaming hot sweetness explodes on my tongue in rich notes quickly chased by the spongy topping that has slightly melted from the heat. My eyes widen as the flavors dance across my tongue and I take another sip despite the hotness.
“Wow,” I rasp.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Gustav nods as if some great secret has been revealed. “Told you you’d want refills.”
At my reaction, Locke takes his own sip and then clutches the hot cocoa closer to him as if afraid someone will take it away. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.
I’d kill for this drink. I’m certain he would, too.
Svetlana takes a drink from her tiny mug and sighs. “Some vodka would make this so much better.” When Gustav procures a bottle of something clear she holds her mug out and he tips a single drop in. “Thank you, strange clone man.”
Gustav’s smile widens. “You’re most welcome, Svetlana, Destroyer of Worlds.”
I glance at her, wondering how he knew her preferred title, but neither one of them offers up an explanation, so I let it go. After all, we have bigger problems here.
Like Steve. Steve’s hundred eyes seem to be watching me very closely.
“Your rooms are ready,” Anders announces. “Please proceed to your assigned doorway and change your clothing. Thank you!”
I almost contemplate denying the order and asking for more hot cocoa instead, but when I glance at Anders and see that too wide smile again, I shrug.
“I guess it can’t hurt to be more comfortable,” I murmur to Locke.
The bulky clothing we’re wearing isn’t exactly easy to move in.
It’s cold in here still, with the ice and all, but somehow, it’s not really cold enough to make my teeth chatter.
I’m regretting my compliance five minutes later when I stare at the outfit that’s been laid out for me.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, staring at the bright red outfit.
It consists of a top and bottom, both long sleeves.
The background color is bright, eye-straining red, somehow brighter than even the red wash from the red dwarf star back on Dross.
There’s a pattern of strange little hooked red-and-white-striped shapes and little brown rounded .
. . men? They’re human-shaped, but not human, with little black eyes, a smile, three red buttons down their front, and white squiggles along their arms and legs.
I couldn’t even guess what sort of creature they are, but I dutifully pull on the soft trousers and long-sleeve shirt before looking at my reflection.
I look insane.
“Cute,” Svetlana comments. “I would never be caught dead in it, but cute.” She looks at the slippers I put on. “The slippers and fuzzy socks though. I like those.”
They socks are red and white stripped. They’d been wrapped with a tag that said, “Howling Wind Ice Hotel: Where we always put out milk for Santa.” I don’t know what any of that means, but I put them on, wiggle my toes, and slip on the slippers right after.
When I step out of my room and get a look at Locke, I realize my outfit isn’t nearly as bad as I thought.
“Don’t say a word,” he grumbles as he tugs at his clothes.
Mine is two separate pieces, but Locke’s is one single outfit with a zipper down the front.
I’d been given slippers, but Locke’s seems to have little footie covers on his.
The front is white, but the arms, legs, and back are cut with black.
The feet are orange, as well as what looks like a beak on the hood that comes up over his head.
Two seconds later, I realize what it is I’m seeing and cover my mouth.
It’s a penguin. Locke is dressed like a penguin.
He grits his teeth as I struggle to hold back my giggles. “We didn’t exactly have a choice and I wasn’t going to call Anders’ bluff on being forced to change. The man looks like he could manhandle me.”
The laughter bubbles out now. “You hated . . . the . . . penguins,” I manage to wheeze.
“Yeah. My life in the Harrow is a perpetual joke apparently,” he grunts back. “At least it wasn’t a bug.”
Svetlana sniffs. “As if you’d be so lucky, Happy Feet.”
When we return to the main area, Anders claps his hands together and gestures for us to follow him.
He’d changed out of his own clothing and is now wearing similar clothing to us, though his is a green and red striped set.
Gustav appears in a zippered version with little smiling men all over it, the same one from all the photos.
“Dinner is served,” Gustav announced. “Please have a seat. You three are our first customers in the last three months, so we may have gone all out.”
Locke pauses. “How many players have you turned away for not saying the magic word in that time?”
Anders turns that smile on him. “Three hundred and seventy-nine,” he replies cheerfully. “And those are just the ones who knocked on the door. That number doesn’t include those who could not find the door at all!”
Part of me wants to be angry at that. He’d said those numbers proudly, as if people dying is just another day. I suppose here it is.
“Being proud of murder is strange, isn’t it?” I ask, raising my brow at him.
He stalks toward me, towering over me like a fucking giant. I hold my ground, but just barely as he leans down and meets my eyes. His smile falls just a little, the corner of his eye twitching.
“Safehouses are a privilege, player,” he grits through his smile.
“Not a right.” He holds the position for five seconds before straightening and fixing his smile.
“I’m so excited for Christmas Dinner! We’ll need to eat fast if we’re going to go to sleep with enough time for Santa to come.
Remember, he sees you when you’re sleeping and he knows when you’re awake.
So, you best be good if you wanna be on the nice list and not the naughty list.”