Ember
GOING TO CALIFORNIA - JOE P
The dawn light brings a rare sight for the city.
Thick, billowing snow.
Then I was taken.
In Mexico, despite being in captivity, I was always aware of the festive season passing.
Senor Gael liked to travel and celebrate with friends, while some of his men swapped with lower ranking members to be with their families.
It meant I’d be left alone for long periods of time with no scheduled fights or beatings.
That in itself felt like a celebration, even if aching grief and loneliness always surfaced.
I had some dark times locked in my cell, picturing what my brother was doing for Christmas back home.
Or worse still, torturing myself with memories of childhood festivities.
For many years while growing up, Warner joined us.
He always played footsies with me under the table while our mother carved the turkey.
“It’s snowing!” Axel’s nose presses against the car window, fogging up the glass. “Holy shit, I never thought I’d see white stuff falling in London of all places.”
“We haven’t had snowfall in years,” Warner replies from the driver’s seat.
“Look at it! I wanna build a snowman. Or make snow angels!”
“How old are you?” Hyland is stonier-faced than usual.
He’s been sullen since Jayce denied his request to have his son for the holidays. She’s freaked by recent events. I believe Hyland kept details sparse, but it was enough for her to slap him with the rulebook and withhold access to Luke again.
“Cheer up, buttercup.” Axel puckers up to blow him a kiss. “It’s Christmas!”
“Who cares?”
“You’re such an old grinch.”
“Keep going, and I’ll ram an icicle up your asshole, pup. See how festive you feel then.”
“That’s hot.” Axel dramatically clamps down on his bottom lip. “I’d prefer a bit more foreplay, though, big guy. You gotta warm me up to it.”
“Jesus, Ax. Shut the fuck up for once.”
“Nah. You’d miss my vibrant conversation too much.”
Seated on my other side, Blaine quietly listens to their antics. I woke up to a bouquet of poinsettias at the foot of my bed this morning, containing a note from him. How he found a florist open on Christmas morning, I’m not sure. But it made me tear up.
“Did you celebrate much growing up?” I nudge our shoulders together.
He sighs through his nose. “Not exactly.”
“What about after you escaped prison?”
“Nah, I mostly leave my people to their own devices. A lot of them still have families out there. I don’t mind spending the day alone to let them have time off.”
“No one should spend Christmas alone.” I wince at the thought.
“What did you do for the last six years?” Blaine scoffs.
“Touché, but that wasn’t by choice. I mostly thought about home and what I was missing back here. It was even harder to forget the life I lost during the holidays.”
The car lapses into silence. I dare not look at Warner, watching me in the rearview mirror. I hope he looked after Tom during the milestones I missed. I’m sure he wouldn’t have let him celebrate holidays or birthdays alone.
“Now you get to spend Christmas with Britain’s most notorious family instead of alone.” Axel breaks the tension with a well-timed joke.
“Pretty sure their reputation is global by now,” Hyland adds.
“That’s probably fair. They’re all fucking crazy.”
“Hey, it was nice of them to invite us,” I scold them both. “Hudson and Kade didn’t have to do that.”
“We’ve spent a few holidays with them.” Warner focuses on the snow-laden road ahead. “Sometimes Ripley and the others made an appearance too.”
“They all know each other?”
“It’s a small world.” Warner hitches up a shoulder. “Their cases followed a similar trajectory. After Blackwood was overthrown, Harrowdean Manor didn’t last long. It gives them a kind of kinship, I suppose.”
“Our former directors too.” Hyland twists to peer into the backseat. “One big, fucked-up Sabre family. Maybe you’ll meet Harlow and the guys when they visit from Australia sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
We leave the capital in the back window, cruising past huge countryside homes. Most Londoners follow the same pattern; swapping the filthy city streets for tree-lined cul-de-sacs, settling down within commuting distance.
The survivors of Blackwood Institute are no different. Hudson and Kade’s forever home with their family is nestled in the outskirts of the capital, far from prying eyes and hopefully, any threats attracted by their profession.
My jaw drops as we drive past multi-million-pound mansions behind spike-topped fences and immaculate brick pathways. When we pull up to a three-story townhouse ensconced in towering oak trees, Warner lowers the window to press his thumb to the gate’s security system.
“Warner Mead,” he recites into the speaker.
After a pause, the mechanism swings open to grant us access. The directors take their safety seriously, even out here in the suburbs. I wouldn’t like to see what manner of hell rains down on anyone who trips their alarm.
“Em, I should give you a head’s up.”
“Oh?” I reach to unfasten my belt.
“Um, Brooklyn has five husbands.” Warner neatly parks up next to a familiar, Sabre-approved beast. “You’ve met the directors and Phoenix. That leaves Eli and Jude—probably the more… ah, interesting of them.”
Spluttering, Hyland grabs the gift bags in his footwell. “Way to set her up.”
“I’m just keeping her in the loop.” He switches off the ignition. “Jude works as a psychologist in a London rehab clinic now, and Eli is a university lecturer. I’m sure you’ll love them.”
“So why the head’s up?” My interest is definitely piqued.
“Just don’t take it personally if either of them are quiet or sneak away for a breather. They’ve all been through a lot, but Jude and Eli carry their scars a little closer to the surface.”
With his caution delivered, Warner hops out to grab Axel’s door and give him a hand. I stifle a snarky retort when Blaine helps me shuffle from the backseat without aggravating my bad leg. It’s been almost a week since the hospital attack. To my relief, the wound is healing well.
We approach the house as a group, carrying wine and gifts. Nervous pinpricks fizzle over my skin when Hyland jabs the doorbell. At least he, Axel and Warner seem to feel at home. I’m still not sure what we’re walking into.
“Ever think you’d be invited here?” I whisper to Blaine.
“Hah. What do you think?”
“If anything, it demonstrates the directors’ trust in you.”
“Or their desire to keep me close for an easy kill when all is said and done.” His mouth twitches, not quite forming a deprecating smile.
“You know we’d never let that happen,” Warner chimes in, listening to our conversation. “We’re putting the past aside, Blaine. You’re one of us now.”
“Like any of you would stand between them throwing me back in—”
The front door swings open, cutting off Blaine’s rant. Kade swings open the door in his usual clean-cut get up, complete with a festive tie to complement his blue dress shirt. And… a red pair of reindeer antlers.
“Come in, guys. Welcome to the madhouse.”
Warner breaks into guffaws. “Nice ears.”
“Don’t ask.” Kade cringes, holding the door wide open. “It’s all Logan’s doing. For the sake of my pride, I’m hoping his eighth birthday brings an end to the dressing up phase.”
On his way inside, Axel snags the head piece to nestle in his own hair. “Where’s the little monster?”
“Kitchen.” Kade points to his left. “Covered in icing sugar.”
“Oh, hell yeah. Dessert first!” Axel shuffles off as quickly as his injuries will allow, no doubt following the scent of roasting meat and freshly baked goods.
I wait with Blaine while Kade greets the others, feeling a little out of place.
“Hey, Ember.” Kade offers me a one-armed hug. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Happy Christmas.”
“You too. Leg holding up alright?”
I shrug his concern off. “I’ve handled worse.”
“You shouldn’t have had to handle it at all. We’ll get to the bottom of your breach in security, I promise. None of you will be put in that position again.”
Letting Warner and Hyland walk ahead, Kade shakes Blaine’s hand somewhat awkwardly then guides us through his home. The decor is simple but tasteful. Bright splashes of colour, blossoming house plants and a collection of hand-painted artwork warm up the generous square footage.
“Ripley’s work.” Warner gestures to a wall covered in art. “She’s talented with an easel.”
“She painted all of these?” I can’t help but gape, thoroughly impressed.
“Doubt she’d let us hang anything not created by her,” Kade quips.
“Damn, she really is good.”
“Her abstract work is phenomenal.”
The open-plan kitchen living space lies ahead of us through a large archway, bustling with life and conversation. Their Christmas tree takes pride of place. The tip of the oversized fir almost brushes the vaulted ceiling, adorned with an eclectic variety of homemade decorations and mismatched bows.
“Who let this big kid into my kitchen to steal cookies?” a female voice demands, rasping with exasperation.
“I’m a fully grown adult,” Axel responds around a mouthful.
“The chocolate chips melted on your face would disagree, Axel Slaughter! Get out!”
“Run, Logan! Take the cookies!”
Standing barefoot in the kitchen, a willowy woman with platinum hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail wears a glower that would unnerve most grown men. Even I’m a little intimidated by her steely exterior.
Assessing grey eyes scan over us, perfectly round underneath inky lashes that dapple light across her sharp cheekbones and pale, alabaster skin. Even dressed in an oversized vintage tee, I can tell she’s muscled and fit.
I try not to linger on the stark scars that mar both her arms, visible in short sleeves. The scars appear old and faded, creating a patchwork quilt of vertical and horizontal marks, covering every available inch of skin.
“Come in, don’t be shy.” She flaps a hand for us to enter. “Introduce us, Kade. I want to meet the kick-ass agent I’ve been hearing all these stories about.”
“Ember, this is our wife, Brooklyn.” Kade stoops to kiss her thoroughly. “Brooke, Ember. Play nice.”