On the Line [Run Cold Book Two]

4: Friends

Snow lightened the intensity of the dark house erected against a backdrop of field and woodland. Beside it, utterly dwarfing the Engen dwelling, stood their yellow pine stables, as gorgeously impressive as always. The horses themselves, sturdy Norwegian Fjords, grazed without concern for the truck Einar had parked parallel to a section of fencing. The man himself had taken both our bags and waited with them near the doorstep, too stubborn to enter. The Engens were a welcoming sort; they wouldn't have been put off by his arriving first, especially not Kettil.

Marcus' father had a breath-stealing hug waiting for me not two steps across the threshold. "My daughter!" he cried, lifting me a foot off the ground. The man was in better shape than most parents I knew, but then again a lot of them weren't nearly half as energetic. In another life, he might have been a sea otter, strong and weathered and agelessly playful.

"It's good to see you," I gasped, returning the hug with a squeeze that wasn't nearly tight enough to leave himshort-winded . Without his willingness to take me in, there was a great chance I'd never have survived to see Oslo again, let alone Niklas. "You guys have a good winter?"

"Would be better one with you here!" he insisted, hauling me inside by the elbow. "Let me see those paws of yours, little bear!"

"Not you too," I muttered, pulling off my mittens and wiggling my empty fingers- well, nearly empty. I still wore the owl's band Helena had given me prior to the Svalbard expedition.

"So I am right!" He slapped Marc's back with a hearty, Santa Clause chuckle. "I was telling him, no, no, she will not be engaged come spring. This bear knows where her honey is at!"

At that point I wasn't sure which of us would melt into a puddle of embarrassment first. I averted my eyes to the fur-lined walls, on the hunt for recent awards added to the family pelts. Marcus rubbed his temples, redder than if he'd run a marathon. 

As much as his younger -my age if not a year behind-  brother Eirik creeped me out, I was so thankful he'd slipped in for a sideways hug. Subtly I shooed him off after a second and waved to their little sister, Hanna.

'Little' in this family of giants was a stretch. Hanna was a twiggy ten year old approaching my height but as shy as a mouse. Flour coated her hair and chocolate her shirt. A dirty oven mitt engulfed her left hand. From the stench of burned cake batter, a disaster was cooling on a pot holder somewhere.

With wide fawn eyes she tiptoed up against her oldest brother, covering her mouth with the mitt. Marc obliged her by leaning down and whispering. With a laugh he straightened and waved at Einar. Hanna edged behind his waist, fixated on the dark-suited guard.   

"She wants to know if you have brought a vampire." In a quieter tone he added, "someone watched Dracula at a sleepover."

Poor thing. I was always a chicken when it came to horror. Couldn't sleep for days after a scary movie. Even now I still caught myself sleeping with the lights on every once in a while, although that hadn't happened ever since my dreams became more terrifying than any demon the silver screen conjured.

"Oh, no. Einar here's a puppy," I said, ruffling his hair. "A big, grumpy, puppy." To his credit, he growled as if he'd been scolded for gnawing on the table legs.

She clearly didn't believe me, but I wasn't about to go lifting his lip for proof.

Marcus flopped onto the ancient couch and I took a seat beside him. I would have draped myself in an armchair, but the ever-matchmaking Kettil had taken that option pretty quick.

"Hanna, she has a presentation to make for school about Leif Erikson. She was waiting for you to be hearing it, to help her practice public speaking. If she can tell the Queen, she can tell her class," Marcus explained.