“There has to be something we can do. To make her see what she’s become. What she’s doing to places and folk like this, like Lark and the orphans.”
Lumi glows quietly while my wheels spin.
At the front of the cottage, the door bursts open with a flurry of cold air and shouting. The fledgling idea fades behind a glow of anticipation.
“Lumi, my disguise.”
“You are ready, Valkie.” She disappears, the moonstone appearing in my pendant with a reassuring weight. My too-pale fingers twist around hair that is once again a deep, starry blue.
“Thank you.”
The kids are in high spirits as I join them, Katja jangling a small purse of collected coins and looking pleased.
We celebrate with the lingonberry tarts Lark helped me bake this morning, and the cottage fills with familiar chaos. Helkki tries to juggle peeled apples and nearly brains Mikael with one that squirts from her grasp. The young man’s reflexes are lightning fast to catch it midair. Juani and Johannes are having a heated debate about who got the bigger laugh.
I help Aili wash her sticky hands while Lark settles Eevi down, and the rest of them dart back and forth in what might charitably be called bedtime preparations. There are shouts and gigglesand snippets of songs, all blending together like orchestrated madness.
By the time Lark and I fall into bed—exhausted and smiling—and he wraps his arms around me for what’s become our nightly ritual of cuddles, I can’t help but think how this particular brand of chaos is sort of perfect.
And I wish I could keep it.
Chapter 22
Talvie
Aclatter echoes from the front hall. I rush from the kitchen, where I was assembling a simple lunch of cold meats and fresh nut-loaf—my latest baking success—to find Lark sweeping broken glass into a dustpan held by Mikael.
“Hellion, stay away with those bare feet.” I give the girl an urgent warning before she can step on any shards, using her nickname for the first time without thinking. Lark shoots me a grateful glance, accompanied with a wink that hits my chest like a fireball.
Mikael gives me a quick nod, while Juani roots through Lark’s toolbox. Above them, the window in the cottage door is missing. During the gremlin incident, the little menace cracked the frame when it launched itself off the coat rack and bounced off the door. The stormy day must have proved too much for it.
“Everyone okay?” I ask.
Mika only nods again, but Lark spares me a grin. “I was hoping the glass would hold while we fixed the frame. No such luck.”
An icy gust cuts through the gaping hole in the door, followed immediately by a voice carried on the wind. “Oh, hello?”
We all straighten to look out the gap, only to spot a long grey cloak blowing around a wiry man.
My stomach drops. Sentry Niemi is back.
Lark grimaces before opening the door to him.
“What happened?” Niemi asks, narrow gaze narrowing even more. “Is everyone alright?”
“We’re fine,” Lark assures him.
Niemi doesn’t appear convinced. “This isn’t good. Not good at all. Cold air getting in. Snow making everyone wet.”
He’s grasping a thin satchel and looks ready to pull out a form to report the hole in the children’s shelter. Which is when Aili appears with a knife in one hand and a string of paper dolls in the other.
“It’s not Lark’s fault. It was the gremlin.”
Lark groans. Niemi clutches a hand to his cloak. My heart lodges in my throat.
The sentry’s posture is stiff with alarm. “A gremlin?”
“It’s long gone.” Lark jumps in. “Everyone’s fine. Just a little damage…that we’re fixing.”
