Ice Country

I step aside to let him pass, watching hisevery move like a hawk.

He approaches Jolie, kneels down—which meanshe’s still almost as tall as me—reaches toward her. My spinestiffens, but I don’t stop him. His movements are slow, almostgentle, if gentleness is possible from such a large person.

He touches a single finger to Jolie’sforehead, runs it along her skin, pushes a few strands of loosehair away from her eyes. And if all that’s not surprising enough,his next move is so shocking I swear a lightning bolt hits me inthe head. He kisses the same finger, and then places it on herforehead, as if kissing her with his lips would be inappropriatecoming from such a gargantuan.

He stands, grunts something, I think afarewell, and then ducks through the door and is gone.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Three days laterJolie still hasn’t moved.

With only two days before Skye and her gangleave to find the Stormers, Feve’s been teaching the healers whatthey’ll need to do for Jolie after he’s gone.

Skye insists I’m not coming with her, but Iam. At least that’s what I’m telling Buff.

“I’m going,” I say.

“You sure you want to leave Jolie?” he asksfor the third time.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to,Buff, ice it! By the Heart of the Mountain you know that’s true.But I have to. You know I do. I owe Skye, Siena, all the others. Iowe it to Jolie to find out the truth.”

“But isn’t Skye telling you not to come?”

“Yah, but I’m freezin’ going anyway,okay?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll watch out for her whileyou’re gone.”

“Nay. Clint and Looza already said they’ll doit. You’ve got to come with us.”

Buff’s face falls. “Dazz, you know I want to,more than anything, but I can’t. Father, he’s not getting back onhis feet anytime soon and I have to get a job—a real job—orDarce and the others are go

I smile. Not at the thought of Buff’sbed-ridden father or of his brothers and sisters starving, butbecause I have a solution. Compliments of Abe and Hightower. Bufftakes my smile the completely wrong way. “Something fu

Things must be really bad at home if histemper’s gotten as bad as mine. I speak quickly. “What if I pay youin advance to help us find Skye’s sister?” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at melike I’ve been punched in the head one too many times, which Iprobably have. “Pay me? I don’t want to come as part of a job. Iwant to come because you’re my friend.”

I feel a bit of foolish warmth in my heart soI smack a fist in my hand to compensate. “Not like a job,” I say.“Like a donation. To your family. So you can come.”

“You’ve barely got more silver than me, andyou’ll need to give it all to Clint to take care of Jolie and yourmother while you’re gone.”

I keep smiling as I tell him about Abe’slittle visit. He doesn’t believe me until I show him the pouch ofsilver coins. “Holy mother of all shivballs!” he exclaims. “You’rerich, Dazz!”

I nod because I am, and because sickles solveproblems. “So you’ll do it?”

“Chill yah, I’ll do it,” he says, all smilesand taut muscles.

~~~

“Sear it, I’m go

I laugh. “You know, I really love yourhonesty, Skye, but I’m coming with you.”

“You ain’t.”

“Think what you want to,” I say.

“My fists say you ain’t,” she says, and Ilaugh again.

“You can’t fight me,” I say. “Remember whathappened last time? We might as well skip the fighting part and gostraight to the other part.”

“You want to?” Skye says, her eyes bold andsharp as they cut into mine.

This time I really hope Jolie can’t hearus.

Skye leans into me and I scoop a hand aroundthe back of her neck, slip it under her coat, feel the warmth ofher smooth skin, pull her even closer. Her forehead touches mineand we look at each other, all the way in, closer than close, herbrown chestnut eyes bearing her soul to me, and I can see—nay,feel—how much she wants me, how when she looks at me shefeels the same way I do when I look at her.

I touch her jaw with my other hand, justbelow her ear, ru

I pull back, glancing sharply at Jolie, who Ithought I saw move.

“What?” she says, following my gaze.

Jolie continues sleeping as still as a stone,just like she’s been the whole time.

Feeling foolish, I say, “Sorry, Skye, Ithought—I just thought I saw…”

“It’s okay,” Skye says with that raspy voiceof hers that makes me shake with desire. She touches a gentle handto my face, brushing the scruff of my beard. “Time’ll healeverythin’,” she says.

~~~

One day till Skye leaves. (And me withher?)

I know, I know, I’ve been saying all alonghow I’m going, how Buff’s going with me, how I owe them and have tohelp Skye and Siena find her sister…but…but…

Jolie.

How can I leave my sleeping angel sisteralone in her bed, maybe to wake up one day without me there by herside? After all she’s been through, how could I ever do that? Thewarmth of the fire is making me sweat.

I’m brooding over my thoughts, changing mymind again and again, when there’s a knock on the door. UsuallySkye and Buff and the others just come right in, so it surprisesme. Abe again maybe?

I wipe my sleeve on the frosted glass so Ican take a peek. My breath hitches. What am I seeing?

I rush to the door, thrust it open, slammingit off the wall, but not caring, not caring, because—

—standing before me is my mother, practicallywithered away to nothing, all skin and bones and as pale as theGlassies, but that doesn’t matter, because she’s standing on herown two feet.

“Dazz,” she says, her voice as whispery as italways is, like when she’s murmuring nonsense at the fire. Butthere’s no nonsense in it, because it’s her—it’s really her. Notdrugged-out Mother, but the real one, the one who was always there,always around when father was working in the mines, who only leftus when he did.

My brain’s telling me to turn her away, totell her to come back when she’s been clean for more than a day, amonth at least, but every instinct in my body is saying different.And after everything—Wes and Jolie and Skye and the king—I can’t, Ican’t be the firm hand on her now, because I need her, maybe everybit as much as she needs me.

I step forward and curl my arms around her,feeling my heart beating firmly against her head, which rests on mychest. I hold her and hold her and hold her, and I feel her bodyshaking as she sobs into me, but then I realize I’m shaking too,just letting go, letting everything out of me, because she’s mymother again, and she can make all the bad stuff go away.

I don’t know how long we stand there, justhugging, just being mother and son again, but by the time we pullapart there’s snow on our eyebrows and in our hair from the big,fluffy flakes that have begun to fall, coating everything,including us, in white.

“Want to come inside?” I ask.

She bites her lip and nods, frozen tears onher pale cheeks.

Her tears melt from the warmth of the firewhile we sit next to each other, watching Jolie sleep. We don’t sayanything, except when, from time to time, Mother strokes Jolie’shair and murmurs, “My baby, oh, my sweet baby.”

I just watch her, wonder how things could’vebeen different had my father not died, or if mother was able tocope with it better. Would we be different, Jolie and I? How muchwas lost by my mother’s actions, by her weakness? Although I don’twant it to, my red, red temper starts to rise.