Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

JADE

“ I ’ve never seen snow. Not here on Zyan or back home in L.A.,” I say as I gaze out the window. “And just in time for Christmas.”

“It’s so pretty,” Clementine says, standing beside me at the window.

“Snow is a rare event, except in the mountains,” Makov says. “I do not miss the shoveling.”

Cold air fills the common area of our home when the door opens. Torin enters, Ruby and their daughter Amber behind him. Amber and Clementine race off to play with whatever is in Amber’s pack.

Seconds later, a blur of white sails past my head and strikes Makov square in the head. The huge warrior stands, wiping snow from his face and remaining horn.

“I most definitely do not miss snowballs,” Makov adds.

“Come on, Mak,” Torin goads from the doorway in that ever-cheerful voice. “You’re here on Zyan and it’s snowing. Two holiday miracles, as my sholani would say. ”

I want just one miracle for Christmas. My sholan to walk through those doors.

“Don’t drag me into this,” Ruby says, hands raised high so Makov can see she’s empty-handed as she enters the house.

Mak growls at his brother. I know that growl. It’s harmless. Except for what he might do to Torin. The brothers push each other’s buttons in a way that rivals my kids. Clem is rather protective of Cris, probably because he is half zyanthan and has already encountered some hatred on Zyan. Not Clem. She’s fully human, and Zyanthans accept her as they accept the human wives of the Warriors who found their heartmates on Earth.

Despite how wonderfully accepting Zyanthans are towards humans, they are guarded and wary of human-zyanthan mixed children, like they are of the eeshone kids born here, kids without the same shade of skin or horns. Like my Havok.

The Center for Eeshone where I work was his home as a child. We live in a house on the property. And these kids, abandoned by their families, have become part of ours. They deserve unconditional love, the same as what they give us. The human-zyanthan children, kids born of two worlds, will suffer a similar prejudice to the eeshone. They have each other and they’re stronger together.

Stronger Together. The warrior motto Havok often recites.

I have to be strong for them… with them. As a family. They’ve already lost so much. I will not let them lose the holidays too.

“When, Torin?” I ask. He knows what I’m asking.

“Tonight. Tomorrow latest.”

“You’re sure?”

“Stop pressuring him,” Ruby scolds.

I take a deep breath, rise from the chair, and help Cris, who’s already wearing his coat, into his hat and bright red mittens. The hat holes slide over his horns beautifully.

“Why red?” I ask Ruby who picked up the winter accessories from McKenna. “And how did she know it was going to snow? ”

“The ZDC has been announcing the coming storm for days, sis.”

“I guess I’ve been preoccupied.”

Torin tosses a hat to Makov. “Don’t freeze your horn off.”

“Drekk you,” Mak says, but he doesn’t anger, not like one might expect. He’s sensitive about the horn he lost in the war, which is why Torin constantly reminds him of it. I’m not sure I understand that, but Torin has a way of keeping Mak from wallowing in despair. Brothers.

Ruby ties a scarf around four-year-old Amber, as if everything is normal. She’s always been strong in a way I haven’t. She took care of me when I was pregnant and Clementine’s no-good father only came by looking for sex. The asshole never even held his daughter. Not once.

Havok took Clem from my arms the moment he rescued us and he hasn’t let go since.

That’s it. Good thoughts. Hold on to the good memories.

“I think it’s time we learn how to make snowballs, kids.”

“So we can throw them at Daddy when he comes home!” Clementine says

“Definitely! That will teach him to arrive late.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Torin agrees.

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Ruby flies out the front door as I start wrapping myself in layers of winter clothes.

Makov lifts Vinnov into his arms. He’s only two, with the cutest little horn buds.

“You think holding your youngling will protect you, Mak?” Torin teases.

“You will not harm my son with a snowball.”

I look up and sure enough, Torin’s holding a massive snowball, as big as his hand.

“My aim is better than that.”

The snowball lands square in Mak’s face. The male doesn’t flinch. Neither does Vinnov. But Samira launches herself in front of her father and brother, arms folded over her chest, green eyes blazing.

“You’ll have to go through me next, Uncle Torin,” she announces.

Laughter bubbles up. I can’t help myself. She’s only five, only six months older than my Crispin, but that little girl is a leader like no other. Clem is a full two years older, but even she defers to Samira.

Torin advances on the trio and stares down at his niece. “You don’t even reach my waist, youngling.”

“Which is where she’ll punch if he’s not careful,” Emily whispers to me.

“Has Makov been training her as a warrior already?”

Emily shrugs. “We live in an isolated area, and she’s a girl. After what happened to me, he’s determined that she will always be able to defend herself.”

“Honestly, I never thought about that with Clem. She’s more inclined to watch over the kids here at the Center. And they in turn have become her personal entourage of bodyguards, even though they’re only a few years older than her.”

My hand flies to my face. “I have to run up to the main building. I can’t leave them out of playing in the snow.”

Emily’s hand on my arm stops me. “Ruby’s getting them. And they’ll be dressed as warmly as our kids. Did you think McKenna would forget about them?”

I swallow a lump in my throat at how my friends and family have thought of everything. “I guess I’m not thinking clearly. And honestly, I don’t know whether to be mad at Havok or worried about him.”

“Mad is better than worrying.”

“But it’s not fair to him.”

“You think these warriors can’t handle an angry woman? ”

I smile, knowing how all our little spats end. Crispin is a result of one such spat.

Makov hands Vinnov to Samira to hold. I see a fight brewing.

“Take it outside,” Emily says, pushing Makov toward the door. “And take the kids.”

“An excellent idea, my Em. With so many younglings running around, Torin will be distracted when I pummel him.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Take them out so you can teach them how to make snowballs. I’ll join you as soon as I baste the kirkas, okay?”

The resh she made two nights ago was decent. Not spectacular, but decent. No one died. No one went to the medi-center with food poisoning. A third Christmas miracle. Are there any miracles left?

Within minutes, everyone gathers outside, fifteen of us in total. I glance at my kids. At Emily and Mak’s, and Ruby and Torin’s as well as five eeshone kids ranging from five to thirteen.

“Now what?” I ask, at a loss.

“We pick teams,” Emily says. “Kids versus adults, or women versus men.”

“We should separate Torin and Mak,” Ruby says.

“So they don’t fight?” I ask.

“Oh, they’ll fight,” Emily replies. “But we won’t get caught in the cross fire if they’re on separate teams.

Samira’s already making snow angels beside Emily. And the older boys are making snowballs and handing them to the young ones to stack. They’re building an arsenal.

“I’m sticking with the kids.”

“Me too,” Emily and Ruby say at the same time.

That gets the warriors’ attention. “Both of us against thirteen of you?”

“You mean a couple of warriors can’t handle a bunch of women and children?” Ruby mocks.

Mak and Torin turn their back on us, forgetting their brotherly feud as they commence to strategizing. The kids don’t wait for them to reply. They launch the snowballs. An all-out war ensues and I run for cover behind a tree. My little one, Cris, follows me and I pull him in close against my legs, watching from the safety of the tree.

“You can throw snowballs at Uncle Torin and Makov, sweetie. It won’t hurt,” says the mother who’s too chicken to do so herself. That, plus I have terrible aim. Can’t hit a hamper with an oversized towel.

Cris’s little face tilts up to me. “I miss Daddy. Will he be home for Christmas?”

“I hope so.” I hoist him onto my hip and kiss his cold cheek. “But we’ll save some food and presents for him, and you can show him how to make snowballs too.”

His little face lights up, brighter than any Christmas tree. Which reminds me, we need to hang the lights Melikk made for us.

“I’m going to throw snowballs at Daddy when he comes home.” Cris wiggles out of my hold and runs off to join snowball-ageddon.

Get in line behind me, kiddo.

Holding a piece of metal up as a shield, Mak and Torin charge at the children. One by one, the males capture three of the kids, toss them onto the sheet metal, and start pulling them through the snow. A makeshift sled.

That’s one way of ending the snowball fight.

“Let’s go, Jade,” Ruby calls. “While the coast is clear.”

I race over to her, watching as Torin scoops up Cris and tosses him into the lap of one of the older boys on the sled. Makov’s pulling the sled by two chains already loaded with six kids, while Torin collects more kids as they go. I don’t think Mak’s even breaking a sweat.

Torin stops long enough to survey the area. The snowball fight turned into a game of hide and seek. “I will find you, you little gruds.”

“Really, must you call them gruds?” Ruby asks. “You’ll give them nightmares.”

“They’re sturdy younglings. I promise you, they will be fine, my sholani.”

I catch Torin’s eyes. “Warriors don’t break their promises,” he says.

I don’t know if he means a promise Havok made to me to be home before Christmas, or Torin’s promise that Havok will return home safe.

I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Torin Kaitel?”

“Now you’ve done it. She’s using your last name,” Ruby says.

“Only that Havok is not easy to kill.” Torin grins. “I’ve tried.”

Ruby kisses his cheek. “Save that story for when he returns.”

“He will return,” I say with fervor. These kids, these people here, have all traversed adversity to be here. Havok will arrive in time for Christmas, even if we have to stretch the holiday a wee bit. But that’s the best part about being married to zyanthan warriors. We learn to blend our cultures in a way that works for us.

“Come on in, everyone,” Emily calls. “I have hot chocolate. Made with quirty fruit.”

Quirty? Seriously? That’s tart. Nothing like hot chocolate. Well, nothing’s perfect.

But the kids run inside, smiling and laughing.

I gaze at the stars disappearing behind the snowfall. “You’re missing all the fun, my love. Come home soon. Nothing’s the same without you.”