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Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy...
Three Ships
“You’re hopeless, you know that, right?”
Abby Sinclair hung another silver ball on the Christmas tree and then stepped back to judge the effect, ignoring her younger sister’s remark. She cocked her head sideways as she considered her next move, her long brown curls shielding her face. “Blue, next, I think,” she said finally.
Jen sighed. “Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.” Abby leaned over the ornaments box and selected a shimmering blue star. “I just choose not to respond.” She walked around the tree, but her voice drifted back through the evergreen boughs. “Especially when you open your mouth and Mom jumps out.”
“Ouch.” Jen took a sip from the diet cola in her hand. “That was low.”
“But true.”
“Touché.” She watched Abby hang a few more blue and silver ornaments. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine.” Abby stepped back towards the sofa her sister lounged on. “What do you think? Too over the top?”
“It’s gorgeous, Martha Stewart, of course, just like every year,” Jen said, shaking her head. “If it’s one thing you’re good at, it’s Christmas. I’m just not sure why you bother.”
Abby turned and blinked at her.
“I mean, come on, Abby. It’s not like either of us have kids to enjoy this.” Jen waved her hand at the gleaming Christmas decorations around her: not just the tree, but the fragrant evergreen swags, trimmed with blue and silver ribbon, tied to the long white curtains; the soft white cotton “snow” snuggled atop the dark wooden mantle, sprinkled with a tiny china village aglow with pale light, and the two blue and silver stockings hung one on either side of the fireplace. “You go all out every year, and for what? Me? I’m touched, really, but you don’t have to. Why bother? Just get a tree, throw some lights and ornaments up in the living room, and leave it at that. But no, you have to put lights in all the windows, and decorate every room.”
She knew Jen wasn’t trying to be cruel, but the words stung. “You are touched,” Abby retorted. “And you sound more like Mom than ever. The universe doesn’t revolve around you, much as you might want it to. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why bother?” Jen repeated. “Especially with this ‘I can’t put up the Christmas tree until Christmas Eve.’ Just throw it up on Thanksgiving Weekend like everyone else in the universe.”
“Because it’s not a bother.” Abby shook her head. “It’s fun.”
“Fun?” Jen gave a mock-shudder and then grinned. “And you say I’m touched. You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” Abby said, as she closed the ornament box and picked it up. “What are your plans for tonight?”
Jen drained the rest of her soda before answering. “I dunno. Mike and I might go down to the bar and see who else is trying to drown Christmas in their beer mugs. Want to join us?”
“No, thank you.” It was Abby’s turn to shudder. “I don’t know what you see in him, Jen, but Mike’s a cretin.”
“He’s great in bed, though.” Jen grinned at her. “And that’s all I’m looking for at the moment.”
“Enjoy, then. I’ll be here after I close up the shop. Christmas Eve in a bar with a bunch of drunk jerks is not my idea of a good time.” Abby turned to leave the room, but Jen reached out a hand.
“Abby, wait.”
She turned to see Jen’s unexpectedly serious face, almost glowing in the early morning sun that streamed in from the window behind her. “What?”
“Why do you do it?” And this time, the question wasn’t asked flippantly.
“Because I have to,” Abby said quietly, after a long pause. “I still believe.”
“In what?”
After an even longer pause, Abby said, “In him. In Santa, I mean. I still believe. I remember.” Then she left the room.
Later that afternoon, standing in the dim sunlight that streamed in to the brightly-lit bead shop, Abby inhaled the sweet fragrance of hot chocolate and peppermint sticks, forcing the remainder of the morning conversation from her mind with determination. Jen had laughed at her, long and hard, after that admission.
I can’t blame her, Abby thought, tying another bow onto a candy cane and placing it into the bucket on the counter. After all, she was so young when we left...I’m sure she doesn’t remember.
But I do...
The bead store shimmered, disappearing before her eyes for just a moment, and she was back in the small cabin, only six years old, looking up at the great coat and the man who was putting it on, just before he’d pulled his boots on and taken his hat from her, tousling her hair as he went by, the sack full of toys waiting by the door for him...
Then it was gone, just another flash of memory, but a warm one, one that made Abby glow inside. I know he exists. It’s not just my imagination. He exists.
And if it hadn’t been for her mother, they’d have never had to leave the fleet. Anger rose and then was firmly squashed; her mother had been dead for nearly six months, drowned in the alcohol that had ruined her life, but Abby hadn’t seen her in almost ten years before that. Her emotions at the funeral had been relief, not sorrow, something she still felt slightly guilty about. It wasn’t really her fault, Abby mused, her fingers sliding over the ribbon idly. She just wasn’t cut out for that kind of life.
But what would I give to go back?
She didn’t have an answer to that.
The bell above the door jingled; Abby looked up, pulled from her thoughts by the pair of young women who came in the shop, cheeks pink from the cold. Their exclamations of joy at the decorations and the beads available distracted her, and Abby had no more time to think for several hours.
But eventually, the store emptied as folks went back to their homes to celebrate Christmas Eve with their families. Abby brewed a cup of tea and retreated to her stool behind the counter, savoring the quiet and the taste of vanilla on her tongue. The setting sun streamed in through the glass shop front, bathing the Christmas decorations in a blaze of red and gold that dazzled her eyes. She watched the sun set and the lights come on in the stores across the street, glowing in the growing darkness, and wondered if any of them knew why the lights were so important on this night.
We’re such creatures of habit. Our parents had lights on our trees, so we do. Well, most of our parents did. She remembered coming home to the dark windows, bare of any sign that Christmas was celebrated inside, her mother’s insistence on nothing changing, ever...and the old fears rose again, just like they had every year.
“Enough,” Abby said firmly to herself. “It’s the past. I can put up the lights again. I’m safe now. She doesn’t run my life anymore.”
Eventually, the sun sank low enough that the only things Abby could see were the Christmas trees across the street. She drained the remainder of her tea, locked the front door and went into the back room to clean up before heading home. Most of the other shops had closed long ago – she was pretty much the last one open on the street. It had started to snow again, and she paused to watch the snowflakes dance down before flipping her sign to “Closed.”
Crash!
Abby came sprinting out of her back room and stopped, horrified at the sight in front of her. Glass lay in a thick carpet over the entry and her door was gone, shattered by the groaning man that lay on the floor, bleeding onto the floor. He looked up at her as she gasped, and shook his head.
“Stay back,” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Who?” Abby looked out the doorframe; it was snowing harder, and icy flakes drifted in on the chill air. “And why...”
A harsh laugh from somewhere outside interrupted her, and the man winced. “Dammit. Get behind the counter and hide. Maybe they won’t find you.”
“What?”
“Just do it!” He levered himself up onto one elbow and glared at her. “Please. I don’t need anything more to regret.”
Abby ducked behind the counter and listened to the harsh voices get closer. Two, she decided, reaching for the gun and ammunition she kept hidden beneath the register. Which means, if I aim right, I should only need two bullets, but better be to be safe than sorry. Fully loaded it is.
Glass crunched as someone climbed through the remains of the doorframe, and someone said in a coarse voice, “You were right, Mac. He don’t bounce real well.”
“I dunno, Paul, he might’ve done better if this door hadn’t been here.” The second voice was more nasal, but just as cruel, and Abby’s mouth tightened. “But the crash sounded really pretty.”
They must have picked the man up – she heard a groan, and the scrape of flesh against glass and winced in sympathy. “Yanno, Mac, there’re lots of glass doors on this street. Let’s see if we can make as big a crash next door,” Paul said, laughing.
“Good idea.” Mac chuckled as well. “The boss won’t mind if he’s got a few more scrapes as long as he can still talk. How high should we drop him from this time?”
That was it; Abby stood up, pumped the shotgun once and then leveled it at them. “How about you leave instead? Without him?”
The thunk-thunk of the pump action got their attention: both men whipped around, and Abby’s eyes widened. Their clean-shaven faces and almost military build belied the harsh voices, and their crisp uniforms were not what she was expecting. In fact...no. It couldn’t be. Not here. Her thoughts raced as memories jockeyed for attention, but her grip on the shotgun never wavered.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Mac was obviously the leader; the taller of the two, his eyes twinkled with a nasty lewdness as he took a step towards her. Abby suppressed a shudder and fired off a round that kicked up glass at his feet. He stopped, shock whitening his face.
“Take one more step towards me and the next one takes out your kneecap,” she said evenly, pumping the shotgun again. “Now get the hell out of my shop. And take your creepy friend with you.”
Paul had hauled the stranger up by his collar; now, he started to step through the door, but Abby shook her head. “Drop him first. He stays, you go.” Paul looked at Mac uncertainly and Abby frowned, squeezing off a shot that cracked some of the remaining glass in the doorframe near his head. He flinched and dropped the stranger. “Which part of drop him and get the hell out of my shop didn’t you understand?”
She pumped the shotgun a third time, and aimed. “Well?”
They looked at each and then Mac started to reach for something in his jacket. Abby didn’t wait to see what it was; she fired, and he dropped to the ground, howling, the remains of his knee adding to the mess on her floor. It was going to be hell to clean up later.
“I warned you,” Abby said, pumping the shotgun again and ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she aimed at Mac’s head. “The next one splatters your brains. You have thirty seconds.”
Paul didn’t wait that long; he hauled Mac up and pulled him through the doorframe, leaving a trail of blood behind. He paused once to look back, and Abby shrank back a little from the venom in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back for him,” he snarled. “And you won’t have enough bullets to stop all of us.” Then they both vanished into the snow.
Abby didn’t lower the shotgun until she could no longer see their silhouettes against the swirling snow. Then she unchambered the bullet and laid the gun on the counter before picking her way through the glass to the stranger.
Up close, the bruises and cuts on his face made her shiver in sympathy. “What did you do to piss them off like that?” she whispered, reaching out with a soft hand to touch his cheek. “And who were they?”
And then she looked closely at him, and her brown eyes widened. Underneath the grime, his clothes were strangely familiar: the remains of a white shirt, dark pants tucked into high boots...old memories floated by again, just out of reach, and she shook her head. It couldn’t be...
“Who are you?” Abby said, the butterflies in her stomach shifting to maximum warp. “Where did you come from?”
His hazel eyes, edged with silver, captured hers; he searched her face for a moment, and then he smiled, a slow, sexy smile that somehow made the bruises fade for a moment. “You know who I am, Little Bit.”
Little Bit. No one had called her that in years—not since her mother had forcibly removed her and Jen from the ship, threatening her father with all sorts of horrible things. Abby looked at those eyes, reaching back into her memories and trying to come up with a name...and then she knew.
“Captain Frost?” He’d been one of the other captains in the fleet, often over to consult with her father, and always with a smile and a present for her and Jen. “What happened? Where’s your ship?”
His eyes darkened. “Not here. Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere safe? Who knows how fast they’ll be back here.”
He was right; not only that, but Abby knew the police would be by soon to investigate the gunshots. And since I really have no way to explain it, it’s better if I’m not here. She looked once at the door sadly, then sighed. I’ll deal with that later. If there is a later.
As if reading her mind, Captain Frost looked at the door. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s why I have insurance,” Abby said, trying to grin. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“No, let me.” He straightened up and frowned at the door, and Abby blinked as the glass from the floor rose around them and fitted itself back into place, the cracks vanishing before her eyes. “But you might want to take care of the shotgun. Why did you have that back there?”
“Because you never know when I might need it,” Abby said. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
He had to brace himself against the counter in the end, so she worked quickly, unloading the gun and stowing it carefully back in its hiding place. Then she shut down the lights and helped him out the back door to her car.
Abby spent the fifteen minutes it took to get to her house watching her review mirror for police lights and strange vehicles and racking her brains trying to figure out what they were going to do. That, and stealing glances out of the corner of her eye at the figure slumped in her passenger seat. The last time she’d seen Captain Jack Frost, he’d been standing stone-faced next to her father as she walked down the plank of the ship, her arm firmly held in her mother’s grasp. Abby had been sobbing, and when she’d looked back, he’d waved to her.
“You’ve changed, Little Bit.” His voice startled her; she’d thought he was sleeping.
“Growing up tends to do that to you.”
“You’ve gotten harder, though. The Little Bit I remember wouldn’t have blown off a man’s knee.”
“The Little Bit you knew was six when she left the fleet. My mother wasn’t the easiest woman to live with, and I had to learn to protect myself and my sister.” Abby turned the small blue truck into her driveway, noting with pleasure that the Christmas lights on the trees in the front yard glowed in the falling snow. “I did what I had to.”
“She should have never been allowed to take you.” The growl in his voice surprised her a little.
“She was my mother. My father wouldn’t cross her. You know that.”
He grunted. “At least she didn’t destroy everything she touched. You still believe. How about your sister?”
Abby hit the button for the garage door before she answered. “Jen...doesn’t remember,” she admitted. “At all. Sadly. Or maybe it’s for the best. She doesn’t miss it like I do.”
Jack’s eyes, which had been dark with pain, lit up when she helped him into the house. “You didn’t forget the lights.”
“Of course not.” She settled him on the couch in the living room and went to light the candles on either end of the mantle. The Christmas tree shimmered in the corner, casting blue and silver lights in the dim room, and it softened the bruises on his face. “Why else did you think I brought you here, Captain Frost? I lit the tree this morning, just like we were taught. They won’t be able to get through the barriers.”
“I should have known better than to doubt you, Little Bit.” He grinned. “But you need to stop calling me Captain. Really. It’s just Jack.”
“Jack.” It felt odd falling from her lips. “That will take some getting used to.”
**
He watched her go into the other room, still trying to reconcile the small, serious six-year-old cabin boy with the tall, beautiful woman in blue jeans and a white sweater who had coolly shot down one of Chill’s sailors. The Commodore will be so proud...
Which brought him to the current problem – how to let the Commodore know he was here, without bringing Chill’s wrath down on her? You’ve already lost one ship to that maniac, Jack reminded himself. You cannot let him get his hands on Little Bit. Not at all.
Especially not now that you’ve seen what she’s become.
“Are you hungry?” she called from the kitchen, rousing him from his thoughts. “I can pull something out, depending on what you want.”
“Food?” he said, chuckling. “I’m not really picky.”
“Good, because I’m not that much of a cook.” Abby appeared in the doorway with two steaming cups. “But frozen pizza is easy.”
Jack accepted the cup with a smile, inhaling the spicy smell of cider and cinnamon appreciatively. “Pizza is fine.”
After she left again, he let the smile fall, feeling the ache in his bones. Chill’s boys hadn’t done anything fatal – they knew their boss wanted him alive. Dead, he wasn’t worth anything to them.
And they’d be following, soon. She’d hurt them, and stolen their prize – Abby wasn’t safe here anymore, despite the lights that hung in all the windows.
“They’ll be coming for you, won’t they?” she said, coming back in with two plates. Abby handed him his, then moved to a smaller armchair on the side of the fireplace and looked over at him.
Jack sighed, unable and unwilling to lie to her. “Yes, I’m sure they will.”
“But they can’t get in here. I’ve got lights on every window...”
“They’ll try to lure us out – or bomb us out.”
Abby paled, and his heart lurched. “Bomb us out?”
“If they have to.” He got up carefully and went over to her. “But I promise you, Little Bit, if it comes to that, I’ll surrender. I won’t let them get you.”
Her clear brown eyes caught him and held him in place. “Why are they after you, Jack? And where’s your ship?”
“Gone,” he admitted. “They blew us out of the sky two weeks ago. Killed everyone but me and a few others. I got them off in the life raft and let Chill capture me. Hopefully, my first mate got the rest of the crew that survived back to the fleet, but I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because Commodore Geoffrey Chill is insane,” Jack said bluntly. And he wanted to desperately know why I was around Earth two weeks before the run. “And he hates the fleet and all it stands for. And he thinks if he can threaten me, the Commodore will give up his ships and go retire or something. Not that he would. But if Chill finds you here...” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; Abby picked up on his meaning immediately, and shivered. “Don’t worry, Little Bit. I won’t let him find you here. Like I said, I’ll give myself up before then.”
“But you can’t!” Abby shook her head violently. “He’ll kill you!”
“Not immediately,” he agreed. “Once the Commodore tells him to pack sand, though, he will. But you...”
“The Commodore won’t give in for me either,” she said, but she was lying and he knew it.
“Yes, he would. You know he wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt his daughter.”
She turned away, looking out the window. “I doubt he even remembers us.”
Jack laughed. “Remembers you? Little Bit, he’s never gotten over losing you. If your mother hadn’t made him promise to never try and find you, ever, he’d’ve come looking for you as soon as you turned 18.”
Her head whipped around, and her mouth dropped open. For a few moments, no words came out, and then... “That bitch!” Then she flushed and dropped her gaze to her lap. “Damn her. I wondered.”
I’ll bet, he thought cynically. You’re nothing like her – I’m sure you butted heads constantly. Every time Eve looked at you, she saw your father. And she couldn’t forgive you for that.
Abby looked up at him. “Can he track you? The way Chill can?”
“Not exactly,” Jack said. “I have a beacon to light once I’ve found what I was looking for.”
“And that is?”
Jack hesitated, wondering how she’d react, and then admitted, “I was sent to find you. As soon as he felt Eve die, he sent me out.”
“My mother died six months ago.”
“I know.” He gave her an abashed grin. “It took a while to figure out where you’d gone to ground.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I needed to get away. So did Jen, I think...my mother was...”
The front door banged open, interrupting her; they both froze, looking towards the hallway. A young woman appeared, her green eyes hot with fear and anger, blond hair pulled back in a severe braid, shedding snow like crystal tears, and Jack’s mind spun. For a moment, it was twenty years earlier, on a cold winter’s day, and he stood next to the Commodore and watched Eve drag her daughters down the gangplank. Then he shook his head, and he was back in Abby’s living room.
“What the hell happened down at your shop?” the girl demanded. “And who’s this?”
“Did you lock the front door?” Jack asked, cutting Abby off as she started to respond.
“What?” Jen looked confused.
“When you came in - did you lock the door?” he repeated, and when she stared at him, he cursed and pulled himself to his feet.
“No, stay here,” Abby said. “Jen, go lock the front door, then I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Jen gave her a look, and Abby’s mouth firmed. “Go lock the door,” she repeated. “While I start the fire. It’s going to be cold tonight.” When Jen still didn’t move, Abby stood up. “NOW.”
That one word snapped at her younger sister like a whip-crack. Jack tried and failed to suppress a grin as Jen turned and ran down the hall; Abby had inherited that tone from her father as well. If we can convince her to come with us, she’ll make captain so quickly...and not just because she’s the Commodore’s daughter. She’s a true pirate.
“Now, explain,” Jen said, reappearing in the doorway a few moments later and putting her hands on her hips. “What the hell happened down at the shop? Chris called me at the hospital and told me there were shots fired!”
Jack didn’t say anything, waiting to see how Abby replied.
“There were shots fired. By me.” Abby blew gently on the small flames that flickered in the brick fireplace, coaxing the embers into a true fire. “I was persuading some jackasses to get out.”
“He said they found blood on the floor!”
“Not mine,” Abby replied, exchanging a quick glance with Jack before putting two small logs into the fireplace, then sitting back down in the armchair. “It took a bit to persuade them to go away.”
Once again, he regretted that his magic was limited to nonliving objects – he could have taken care of the blood, and no one would have been the wiser. But his gifts didn’t stretch that far, especially when his crew, his support, was gone.
“The neighbors heard broken glass.” Jen shot another look at Jack, who had managed to get back to the couch without falling over. “Funny, there wasn’t anything broken when the cops got there. Who did you shoot?”
“A couple of thugs,” Abby said. “Nothing more. And he’ll be fine – once his knee heals.”
“What is going on, Abby?” Jen shook her head. “Why were there jerks in your bead store? Who’s he? And why didn’t you stay to talk to the police?”
**
Abby sighed, wondering what how long it was going to take her sister to commit her once she heard. “It’s a long story, Jen. Take a seat, and I’ll introduce you.”
Jen claimed the other end of the sofa, eying Jack with the sort of dubiousness she normally reserved for vomit, screaming children and other noisome issues. “Start talking.”
“This is Captain Jack Frost,” Abby said, and paused, waiting for the explosion.
Her sister blinked once, twice, and then burst into laughter. “Jack Frost? Oh lord, Abby, you’ve really lost it! Jack Frost is a myth!”
“So?” Jack said, and Abby grinned at the disgruntlement in his voice. “Myths had to start with a person, you know.”
“Captain Jack Frost. Okay, whatever.” Jen dismissed him, still giggling, and looked over at her sister. “And so what, Santa Claus sent the mafia after him to break his kneecaps? In your store?” The giggles turned back into full-fledged laughter. “Did he send the elves? With candy canes?” She fell over, laughing hysterically.
“Are you done?” Abby asked after a few minutes. Jen lay on her side, holding her stomach and reduced to giggles. “Or do you need a bit longer to get yourself under control?” She heard the impatience in her voice and bit her lip. And I was accusing Jen of opening her mouth and Mom jumping out. Listen to me.
“I think so.” Jen swallowed the last chuckle and sat up again. “So, you’re Jack Frost.”
“Captain Jack Frost,” Abby corrected. “Jen, do you remember anything before we went to live with Mom?”
Her sister frowned. “What do you mean? We always lived with Mom.”
“No, we didn’t.” Abby leaned forward. “We lived with Dad until I was six. On the ship. Then Mom came back and took us.”
“Abby, I was three when you were six. I barely remember when I was six.” Jen shook her head. “Why? Why is it suddenly so important? Dad left us!”
“Because your mother forbid him to ever see you again while she was alive,” Jack said, shifting slightly and wincing. The bruises were visible even in the dim lights from the tree, the candles on the mantle and the fire, since she hadn’t turned on the room lights, and she wondered if there were more injuries he hadn’t told her about. “Once he found out she’d passed on...”
“He sent Jack to find us,” Abby interrupted. He’d said her – not them, and Abby didn’t want Jen to know that. “Except that Commodore Chill found him first.”
“And this Commodore Chill is....?”
“Insane,” Jack said bluntly. “And very powerful. He runs a military syndicate out of Beta Sco called the Acrab – the Sky Scorpions, they’re called by just about everyone. And he hates the Commodore and all we stand for.”
“Where the hell is Beta Sco?” Jen asked. “It sounds like a...”
“A star. It’s a star,” he said, and her eyes widened. “What, you thought Earth was the only interesting planet out there?”
“Are you telling me you’re claiming to be an alien?”
“No. I’m telling you I am an alien. Just like you are.”
Jen jumped up off the couch. “You’re nuts. Both of you. I’m not staying...”
The tree lights dimmed and they all looked up as a low bass rumbling shook the house.
“Dammit,” Jack said, getting up slowly and moving towards the window. “They weren’t supposed to follow this quickly.”
“How did they find us?” Abby asked, joining him at the window. The candles cast a soft glow on the falling snow, but against the dark of the clouds was a blacker bulk, a sinister shape that echoed the nightmares of her childhood.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They might have tagged me somehow, I guess. Or they might have just followed us from the store.”
“Then why not come in after us?”
“Because you have the lights up.” He grinned down at her, enjoying her blush as she remembered. “You should know that.”
Jen joined them as well. “Who are they, really? What do they want?”
“Me, right now. But if they figure out who you two are...” Jack’s voice trailed off. “We have to light the beacon now and trust that the fleet finds us before Chill decides to try and take the lights out.”
As if his words had triggered them, the tree lights dimmed again, then brightened.
“He’s testing the limits,” Jack said. “If he can, he’ll isolate the house and cut the power, so the tree lights die.”
“Let him,” Abby said. “He’ll be surprised when my generator kicks on.” When Jack turned to her, surprised, she gave him a brittle smile. “Welcome to a New England winter. I bought the house BECAUSE it had a generator.”
“It will slow him, not stop him,” Jack said. “Where’s your highest window?”
“The bathroom, up the stairs.” She watched him go, then turned to her sister. “Are you still carrying the pistol Chris gave you?”
“Yes, why?”
Abby went to the hall closet and unlocked the gun cabinet in there. Another pump-action shotgun stood there, the twin to the one she had at the store. “Because I don’t think they’re going to listen to any other reason but this one.”
“What’s the big deal with the lights?” Jen said. “Why are you both so concerned about them?”
“The tree lights are the focus to the barrier spell that the candles set up around the house,” Abby said, and Jen’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t laugh – I’m serious. That’s why I used to freak out when Mom wouldn’t let us put the lights up. I knew they’d come after us eventually, but if there’s a true believer in the house, and the tree, the final piece, is put up on the morning of Christmas Eve, then the soldiers can’t enter the home.”
“What? That’s absurd.”
Abby drew aside the curtain in the living room and pointed at the huge ship hovering over the yard. “Really? Then why haven’t they come in?”
Jen had no answer.
“It’s all real, Jen. All of it. We weren’t born here. Our father is out there, somewhere, and hopefully he’ll find us before they take us out.”
She heard Jack limp back down the stairs and turned towards him. “Beacon set,” he said. “Hopefully, the fleet is near enough to get here before Chill decides to take out your generator.”
Abby pumped the shotgun. “Can you tell how far away they are?”
Jack laughed. “It’s Christmas Eve, Little Bit. The Commodore’s a bit busy.”
“Not to help us, he’s not.”
Jen shook her head. “Insane, both of you.” She pointed at Jack. “But hurt, I can tell. Sit down and let me look at you.”
“It’s just bruises,” he protested.
“Bullshit,” she said. “Sit.” The house shivered and the lights dropped for a moment before the generator kicked on.
Abby got up, shotgun in hand. “Take care of him,” she said to Jen. “And both of you, stay inside.”
“Little Bit...”
“No.” Abby hefted the shotgun with a bleak smile. “Don’t even offer. I’m tired of letting other people interfere with my relationship with my father. That’s why he’s tracking you, isn’t it? He’s going to try to use us to force the Commodore to step down.” Jack opened his mouth but she didn’t let him answer. “I know, trust me. Why else would he follow you? He knows why you’re here, Jack. And I’ll be damned if I let him take my mother’s place in keeping my father away from me. Watch him, Jen, and don’t let him interfere.”
She stalked down the hallway and threw the front door open. The motion sensor light went on as she did, spilling a brilliant white-gold glow over the newly fallen snow and the group of men who had been trying to sneak up to the house. Abby settled the shotgun on her shoulder and called out, “Which one of you is Chill?”
“Why?” a man shouted back.
“Because Abby Sinclair wants to talk to him,” she replied, and from behind her, she heard Jack groan. “I’ve got a deal for him.”
“A deal?” The man looked at her warily. “What kind of deal?”
“Are you Chill?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. I’m only discussing this deal with him.” When he continued to look at her, she added, “Unless you want to try and rush me. Then you’ll find out just how fast I can reload this.” And she made a show of clicking off the safety.
The soldier who had spoken turned to his companion and held out his hand; the other man handed him what looked like a cell phone, and he spoke quietly into it. Abby waited patiently, the gun held loosely, ready to be brought up and fired at an instant. After a few moments, there was a puff of snow, and an older man, dressed in the same kind of uniform as the others, but with gold trim edging the sleeves, came into the light.
“Well, well, well,” he said, and Abby blinked. His voice was gravelly, like her grandfather’s had been, and kinder than she’d expected. “So the child has grown into a woman.”
“It happens,” she said. “Are you Chill?”
“Yes, I am Commodore Chill,” he said, with a slight emphasis on the title she’d intentionally omitted. “The leader of the Acrab. It’s good to meet you again, Miss Sinclair. Now, if you’ll just come with me, I’ll be very happy. And so will you.”
“No.”
His white eyebrows rose at her simple refusal. “Now, really, that’s hardly polite.”
“Neither is your crewmen deciding to bounce Captain Frost through my storefront,” Abby retorted. “Or cutting the power to my house. Come and try to take us, and I’ll splatter your brains all over the side of your ship. Now listen to me.”
Chill gave her a steady look, but didn’t say anything.
“You’re going to leave here, without me, and without Captain Frost,” Abby said. “And you’re going to go back to your little backwater star system, and you’re not going to come back here. Ever.” Her mouth firmed. “I know why you’re here, and it’s not just for me. How many children have you stolen this month to use in your fleet, you bastard?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The shotgun she’d been holding so casually came up with lightning speed, and she pointed it at him. “Liar. I remember. Why do you think this house is protected? My father made sure I knew how to keep us safe.”
Chill smiled, and the predatory look in his eyes was a direct contrast to the voice. “It’s very well done. I commend you.”
“Thank you.”
“Too bad it’s dependent on a generator,” Chill continued. “I hear they’re very fickle machines.”
Something rumbled behind him, and the hair on Abby’s neck rose. There was a brilliant flash, and then the lights died. Smoke tickled her nose.
“Especially when you hit them with a laser cannon,” Chill said, and smiled again. “You should have extended your protections to include your power source, and you might have had something to bargain with. Now, let’s discuss this civilly, shall we?”
He stepped forward into the yard, followed by his men. The lights were dark, and Abby tightened her grip on the gun. “I don’t want to kill you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I will.”
“And how many bullets do you have?” Chill asked her, slowly walking towards the door. “Enough to take all of us?”
“If necessary.” Fear made her throat dry. “Do you want to find out?”
He stopped and cocked his head at her, as if deciding. “You won’t kill all of us.”
“Why not? What do I have to lose?” Abby laughed. “I’m damned sure I’m not going to let you take me, or Captain Frost, or my sister. What else would you have me do?”
“I think I can make a better offer than you think,” Chill said. “You could travel the universe again.”
“With you? No, thanks. I’d rather slit my own throat than become part of your crew. My father would die of shame.”
“Your father abandoned you.”
Abby laughed again. “Nice try. My father gave into my mother, who was a psychotic bitch. She’s dead. I don’t give a shit about what she thinks anymore. And when my father gets here, he’s going to blow your ship out of the sky. And then I’ll leave with him.”
“He hasn’t shown up yet, though,” Chill pointed out. “And if he does, that will be perfect. I can take you all into custody.”
“No, you won’t.” Suddenly, Jack and Jen were both at her side, Jen with her pistol drawn and a grim look on her face. “Because I think I can safely say that we’ll all die before you get your hands on us.”
“Agreed,” Jen growled. “Pervert. Stealing kids to serve in your military? You should have your balls removed with a hand grenade.” When Abby started, she said, “Jack told me more while you were out here. I’m with you – I’ll eat this gun before I leave with him.”
“So you’d go with pirates instead, Miss Sinclair? You do know your father is wanted in more solar systems than I can count easily, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Abby said, and felt Jen nod. “Because he may be hated by the governments, but the people love him. You just can’t stand that he brings happiness to people.”
Jack leaned over and she felt his warm breath on her ear. “Keep him talking – I can...” And then his voice stopped, strangled, and hands grabbed Abby from behind.
She got off one round before the gun was wrestled from her hands; there was a scream, which told her she marked someone. Jen’s pistol cracked once as well, and her sister gave a shout of pure rage. Strong hands hauled her to her feet and held her immobile as Chill came up the walk.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling benignly at all three of them. “That was much easier than I thou...”
And then he paused, frowning, looking over Abby’s head. She blinked as the long barrel of what looked like a revolver came past her right cheek, pointed straight at Chill.
“Now, then, I suggest that you do what my daughter asked,” a deep voice that she’d heard in her dreams said, and Abby gasped. “Get back in your ship and leave. Take your spoils – they’re the last you’ll get here.”
Chill’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for the first moments. Then he said, “How did you...?”
“Your boys weren’t concerned with the sky,” the Commodore said. “And The North Pole runs quieter than your monster. Now, are you going to leave? Or do we need to convince you?”
“You can’t stop us,” Chill snarled, raising his hand. A second cruiser shimmered into view, next to the first. “This time, Claus, you are mine!”
“I doubt it.” At those words, flames blossomed from the massive black ship on the horizon; explosions ripped along the sides, and it tilted, then fell into the snowy hillside.
“Do you want to lose both ships?” the Commodore continued. “Turn around and start walking – or Christmas Eve or no, I’ll blow you away here and now. We’re leaving – and I’m taking my daughters with me. If you don’t mind.”
Chill’s eyes blazed. “One of these days, Claus, I will take you down.”
“Maybe.” Commodore Claus chuckled. “But I doubt it.” He gestured meaningfully with the revolver. “Move it.”
Chill gave him one more hate-filled look, then he turned around and stomped off.
“Is that wise, sir?” Jack said from somewhere behind her.
“I won’t kill him, Jack. Not here. Not tonight. Not unless he truly forced me to.”
The hands holding Abby let go, and she spun around. There he stood, just as she remembered: the great coat, the boots and the hat, but most of all, the jaunty, devil-may-care grin. “Hello, Little Bit,” he said. “Ready to go?”
“Definitely.” She threw herself in his arms. “I’ve been ready since I was six.” Then Abby turned to Jen. “You’ll come too, right?”
Jen looked from Abby to Jack to the Commodore. “Do I have a choice?”
“Always,” the Commodore said, frowning at her. “I won’t force you against your will.”
“Then, no, I won’t leave.” Abby gaped at her, and Jen shook her head. “I’m happy here on Earth, Abby. It’s my home. But you aren’t. You’ll come back and visit, right?”
“But...”
Jen grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Go,” she whispered. “You want to. Just don’t forget me.”
“I won’t,” Abby promised, hugging her back. “And maybe next time...”
“Maybe.” Jen stepped back into the house. “Now go. You’ll always know where to find me. Just look for the lights.”
“I can’t guarantee Chill won’t try and find you, Jen,” Claus said, a worried light in his eyes.
“I know.” Jen raised her chin. “I’ll disappear, I promise. And if I need help...”
Claus walked over to her, hugged her and handed her a small device. “If you need us, call. We’ll come.” Then he looked back at Abby. “Ready, Little Bit?”
And as Abby stepped outside, a schooner, sails set, glided over the horizon, past the burning hulk of Chill’s cruiser and into the front yard. A rope ladder was flung down over the side, and her heart rose. She gave Jen one last look, then climbed up.
“Welcome home, Little Bit,” her father said. “Merry Christmas.”
The End
Three Ships
“You’re hopeless, you know that, right?”
Abby Sinclair hung another silver ball on the Christmas tree and then stepped back to judge the effect, ignoring her younger sister’s remark. She cocked her head sideways as she considered her next move, her long brown curls shielding her face. “Blue, next, I think,” she said finally.
Jen sighed. “Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.” Abby leaned over the ornaments box and selected a shimmering blue star. “I just choose not to respond.” She walked around the tree, but her voice drifted back through the evergreen boughs. “Especially when you open your mouth and Mom jumps out.”
“Ouch.” Jen took a sip from the diet cola in her hand. “That was low.”
“But true.”
“Touché.” She watched Abby hang a few more blue and silver ornaments. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine.” Abby stepped back towards the sofa her sister lounged on. “What do you think? Too over the top?”
“It’s gorgeous, Martha Stewart, of course, just like every year,” Jen said, shaking her head. “If it’s one thing you’re good at, it’s Christmas. I’m just not sure why you bother.”
Abby turned and blinked at her.
“I mean, come on, Abby. It’s not like either of us have kids to enjoy this.” Jen waved her hand at the gleaming Christmas decorations around her: not just the tree, but the fragrant evergreen swags, trimmed with blue and silver ribbon, tied to the long white curtains; the soft white cotton “snow” snuggled atop the dark wooden mantle, sprinkled with a tiny china village aglow with pale light, and the two blue and silver stockings hung one on either side of the fireplace. “You go all out every year, and for what? Me? I’m touched, really, but you don’t have to. Why bother? Just get a tree, throw some lights and ornaments up in the living room, and leave it at that. But no, you have to put lights in all the windows, and decorate every room.”
She knew Jen wasn’t trying to be cruel, but the words stung. “You are touched,” Abby retorted. “And you sound more like Mom than ever. The universe doesn’t revolve around you, much as you might want it to. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why bother?” Jen repeated. “Especially with this ‘I can’t put up the Christmas tree until Christmas Eve.’ Just throw it up on Thanksgiving Weekend like everyone else in the universe.”
“Because it’s not a bother.” Abby shook her head. “It’s fun.”
“Fun?” Jen gave a mock-shudder and then grinned. “And you say I’m touched. You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” Abby said, as she closed the ornament box and picked it up. “What are your plans for tonight?”
Jen drained the rest of her soda before answering. “I dunno. Mike and I might go down to the bar and see who else is trying to drown Christmas in their beer mugs. Want to join us?”
“No, thank you.” It was Abby’s turn to shudder. “I don’t know what you see in him, Jen, but Mike’s a cretin.”
“He’s great in bed, though.” Jen grinned at her. “And that’s all I’m looking for at the moment.”
“Enjoy, then. I’ll be here after I close up the shop. Christmas Eve in a bar with a bunch of drunk jerks is not my idea of a good time.” Abby turned to leave the room, but Jen reached out a hand.
“Abby, wait.”
She turned to see Jen’s unexpectedly serious face, almost glowing in the early morning sun that streamed in from the window behind her. “What?”
“Why do you do it?” And this time, the question wasn’t asked flippantly.
“Because I have to,” Abby said quietly, after a long pause. “I still believe.”
“In what?”
After an even longer pause, Abby said, “In him. In Santa, I mean. I still believe. I remember.” Then she left the room.
Later that afternoon, standing in the dim sunlight that streamed in to the brightly-lit bead shop, Abby inhaled the sweet fragrance of hot chocolate and peppermint sticks, forcing the remainder of the morning conversation from her mind with determination. Jen had laughed at her, long and hard, after that admission.
I can’t blame her, Abby thought, tying another bow onto a candy cane and placing it into the bucket on the counter. After all, she was so young when we left...I’m sure she doesn’t remember.
But I do...
The bead store shimmered, disappearing before her eyes for just a moment, and she was back in the small cabin, only six years old, looking up at the great coat and the man who was putting it on, just before he’d pulled his boots on and taken his hat from her, tousling her hair as he went by, the sack full of toys waiting by the door for him...
Then it was gone, just another flash of memory, but a warm one, one that made Abby glow inside. I know he exists. It’s not just my imagination. He exists.
And if it hadn’t been for her mother, they’d have never had to leave the fleet. Anger rose and then was firmly squashed; her mother had been dead for nearly six months, drowned in the alcohol that had ruined her life, but Abby hadn’t seen her in almost ten years before that. Her emotions at the funeral had been relief, not sorrow, something she still felt slightly guilty about. It wasn’t really her fault, Abby mused, her fingers sliding over the ribbon idly. She just wasn’t cut out for that kind of life.
But what would I give to go back?
She didn’t have an answer to that.
The bell above the door jingled; Abby looked up, pulled from her thoughts by the pair of young women who came in the shop, cheeks pink from the cold. Their exclamations of joy at the decorations and the beads available distracted her, and Abby had no more time to think for several hours.
But eventually, the store emptied as folks went back to their homes to celebrate Christmas Eve with their families. Abby brewed a cup of tea and retreated to her stool behind the counter, savoring the quiet and the taste of vanilla on her tongue. The setting sun streamed in through the glass shop front, bathing the Christmas decorations in a blaze of red and gold that dazzled her eyes. She watched the sun set and the lights come on in the stores across the street, glowing in the growing darkness, and wondered if any of them knew why the lights were so important on this night.
We’re such creatures of habit. Our parents had lights on our trees, so we do. Well, most of our parents did. She remembered coming home to the dark windows, bare of any sign that Christmas was celebrated inside, her mother’s insistence on nothing changing, ever...and the old fears rose again, just like they had every year.
“Enough,” Abby said firmly to herself. “It’s the past. I can put up the lights again. I’m safe now. She doesn’t run my life anymore.”
Eventually, the sun sank low enough that the only things Abby could see were the Christmas trees across the street. She drained the remainder of her tea, locked the front door and went into the back room to clean up before heading home. Most of the other shops had closed long ago – she was pretty much the last one open on the street. It had started to snow again, and she paused to watch the snowflakes dance down before flipping her sign to “Closed.”
Crash!
Abby came sprinting out of her back room and stopped, horrified at the sight in front of her. Glass lay in a thick carpet over the entry and her door was gone, shattered by the groaning man that lay on the floor, bleeding onto the floor. He looked up at her as she gasped, and shook his head.
“Stay back,” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Who?” Abby looked out the doorframe; it was snowing harder, and icy flakes drifted in on the chill air. “And why...”
A harsh laugh from somewhere outside interrupted her, and the man winced. “Dammit. Get behind the counter and hide. Maybe they won’t find you.”
“What?”
“Just do it!” He levered himself up onto one elbow and glared at her. “Please. I don’t need anything more to regret.”
Abby ducked behind the counter and listened to the harsh voices get closer. Two, she decided, reaching for the gun and ammunition she kept hidden beneath the register. Which means, if I aim right, I should only need two bullets, but better be to be safe than sorry. Fully loaded it is.
Glass crunched as someone climbed through the remains of the doorframe, and someone said in a coarse voice, “You were right, Mac. He don’t bounce real well.”
“I dunno, Paul, he might’ve done better if this door hadn’t been here.” The second voice was more nasal, but just as cruel, and Abby’s mouth tightened. “But the crash sounded really pretty.”
They must have picked the man up – she heard a groan, and the scrape of flesh against glass and winced in sympathy. “Yanno, Mac, there’re lots of glass doors on this street. Let’s see if we can make as big a crash next door,” Paul said, laughing.
“Good idea.” Mac chuckled as well. “The boss won’t mind if he’s got a few more scrapes as long as he can still talk. How high should we drop him from this time?”
That was it; Abby stood up, pumped the shotgun once and then leveled it at them. “How about you leave instead? Without him?”
The thunk-thunk of the pump action got their attention: both men whipped around, and Abby’s eyes widened. Their clean-shaven faces and almost military build belied the harsh voices, and their crisp uniforms were not what she was expecting. In fact...no. It couldn’t be. Not here. Her thoughts raced as memories jockeyed for attention, but her grip on the shotgun never wavered.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Mac was obviously the leader; the taller of the two, his eyes twinkled with a nasty lewdness as he took a step towards her. Abby suppressed a shudder and fired off a round that kicked up glass at his feet. He stopped, shock whitening his face.
“Take one more step towards me and the next one takes out your kneecap,” she said evenly, pumping the shotgun again. “Now get the hell out of my shop. And take your creepy friend with you.”
Paul had hauled the stranger up by his collar; now, he started to step through the door, but Abby shook her head. “Drop him first. He stays, you go.” Paul looked at Mac uncertainly and Abby frowned, squeezing off a shot that cracked some of the remaining glass in the doorframe near his head. He flinched and dropped the stranger. “Which part of drop him and get the hell out of my shop didn’t you understand?”
She pumped the shotgun a third time, and aimed. “Well?”
They looked at each and then Mac started to reach for something in his jacket. Abby didn’t wait to see what it was; she fired, and he dropped to the ground, howling, the remains of his knee adding to the mess on her floor. It was going to be hell to clean up later.
“I warned you,” Abby said, pumping the shotgun again and ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she aimed at Mac’s head. “The next one splatters your brains. You have thirty seconds.”
Paul didn’t wait that long; he hauled Mac up and pulled him through the doorframe, leaving a trail of blood behind. He paused once to look back, and Abby shrank back a little from the venom in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back for him,” he snarled. “And you won’t have enough bullets to stop all of us.” Then they both vanished into the snow.
Abby didn’t lower the shotgun until she could no longer see their silhouettes against the swirling snow. Then she unchambered the bullet and laid the gun on the counter before picking her way through the glass to the stranger.
Up close, the bruises and cuts on his face made her shiver in sympathy. “What did you do to piss them off like that?” she whispered, reaching out with a soft hand to touch his cheek. “And who were they?”
And then she looked closely at him, and her brown eyes widened. Underneath the grime, his clothes were strangely familiar: the remains of a white shirt, dark pants tucked into high boots...old memories floated by again, just out of reach, and she shook her head. It couldn’t be...
“Who are you?” Abby said, the butterflies in her stomach shifting to maximum warp. “Where did you come from?”
His hazel eyes, edged with silver, captured hers; he searched her face for a moment, and then he smiled, a slow, sexy smile that somehow made the bruises fade for a moment. “You know who I am, Little Bit.”
Little Bit. No one had called her that in years—not since her mother had forcibly removed her and Jen from the ship, threatening her father with all sorts of horrible things. Abby looked at those eyes, reaching back into her memories and trying to come up with a name...and then she knew.
“Captain Frost?” He’d been one of the other captains in the fleet, often over to consult with her father, and always with a smile and a present for her and Jen. “What happened? Where’s your ship?”
His eyes darkened. “Not here. Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere safe? Who knows how fast they’ll be back here.”
He was right; not only that, but Abby knew the police would be by soon to investigate the gunshots. And since I really have no way to explain it, it’s better if I’m not here. She looked once at the door sadly, then sighed. I’ll deal with that later. If there is a later.
As if reading her mind, Captain Frost looked at the door. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s why I have insurance,” Abby said, trying to grin. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“No, let me.” He straightened up and frowned at the door, and Abby blinked as the glass from the floor rose around them and fitted itself back into place, the cracks vanishing before her eyes. “But you might want to take care of the shotgun. Why did you have that back there?”
“Because you never know when I might need it,” Abby said. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
He had to brace himself against the counter in the end, so she worked quickly, unloading the gun and stowing it carefully back in its hiding place. Then she shut down the lights and helped him out the back door to her car.
Abby spent the fifteen minutes it took to get to her house watching her review mirror for police lights and strange vehicles and racking her brains trying to figure out what they were going to do. That, and stealing glances out of the corner of her eye at the figure slumped in her passenger seat. The last time she’d seen Captain Jack Frost, he’d been standing stone-faced next to her father as she walked down the plank of the ship, her arm firmly held in her mother’s grasp. Abby had been sobbing, and when she’d looked back, he’d waved to her.
“You’ve changed, Little Bit.” His voice startled her; she’d thought he was sleeping.
“Growing up tends to do that to you.”
“You’ve gotten harder, though. The Little Bit I remember wouldn’t have blown off a man’s knee.”
“The Little Bit you knew was six when she left the fleet. My mother wasn’t the easiest woman to live with, and I had to learn to protect myself and my sister.” Abby turned the small blue truck into her driveway, noting with pleasure that the Christmas lights on the trees in the front yard glowed in the falling snow. “I did what I had to.”
“She should have never been allowed to take you.” The growl in his voice surprised her a little.
“She was my mother. My father wouldn’t cross her. You know that.”
He grunted. “At least she didn’t destroy everything she touched. You still believe. How about your sister?”
Abby hit the button for the garage door before she answered. “Jen...doesn’t remember,” she admitted. “At all. Sadly. Or maybe it’s for the best. She doesn’t miss it like I do.”
Jack’s eyes, which had been dark with pain, lit up when she helped him into the house. “You didn’t forget the lights.”
“Of course not.” She settled him on the couch in the living room and went to light the candles on either end of the mantle. The Christmas tree shimmered in the corner, casting blue and silver lights in the dim room, and it softened the bruises on his face. “Why else did you think I brought you here, Captain Frost? I lit the tree this morning, just like we were taught. They won’t be able to get through the barriers.”
“I should have known better than to doubt you, Little Bit.” He grinned. “But you need to stop calling me Captain. Really. It’s just Jack.”
“Jack.” It felt odd falling from her lips. “That will take some getting used to.”
**
He watched her go into the other room, still trying to reconcile the small, serious six-year-old cabin boy with the tall, beautiful woman in blue jeans and a white sweater who had coolly shot down one of Chill’s sailors. The Commodore will be so proud...
Which brought him to the current problem – how to let the Commodore know he was here, without bringing Chill’s wrath down on her? You’ve already lost one ship to that maniac, Jack reminded himself. You cannot let him get his hands on Little Bit. Not at all.
Especially not now that you’ve seen what she’s become.
“Are you hungry?” she called from the kitchen, rousing him from his thoughts. “I can pull something out, depending on what you want.”
“Food?” he said, chuckling. “I’m not really picky.”
“Good, because I’m not that much of a cook.” Abby appeared in the doorway with two steaming cups. “But frozen pizza is easy.”
Jack accepted the cup with a smile, inhaling the spicy smell of cider and cinnamon appreciatively. “Pizza is fine.”
After she left again, he let the smile fall, feeling the ache in his bones. Chill’s boys hadn’t done anything fatal – they knew their boss wanted him alive. Dead, he wasn’t worth anything to them.
And they’d be following, soon. She’d hurt them, and stolen their prize – Abby wasn’t safe here anymore, despite the lights that hung in all the windows.
“They’ll be coming for you, won’t they?” she said, coming back in with two plates. Abby handed him his, then moved to a smaller armchair on the side of the fireplace and looked over at him.
Jack sighed, unable and unwilling to lie to her. “Yes, I’m sure they will.”
“But they can’t get in here. I’ve got lights on every window...”
“They’ll try to lure us out – or bomb us out.”
Abby paled, and his heart lurched. “Bomb us out?”
“If they have to.” He got up carefully and went over to her. “But I promise you, Little Bit, if it comes to that, I’ll surrender. I won’t let them get you.”
Her clear brown eyes caught him and held him in place. “Why are they after you, Jack? And where’s your ship?”
“Gone,” he admitted. “They blew us out of the sky two weeks ago. Killed everyone but me and a few others. I got them off in the life raft and let Chill capture me. Hopefully, my first mate got the rest of the crew that survived back to the fleet, but I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because Commodore Geoffrey Chill is insane,” Jack said bluntly. And he wanted to desperately know why I was around Earth two weeks before the run. “And he hates the fleet and all it stands for. And he thinks if he can threaten me, the Commodore will give up his ships and go retire or something. Not that he would. But if Chill finds you here...” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; Abby picked up on his meaning immediately, and shivered. “Don’t worry, Little Bit. I won’t let him find you here. Like I said, I’ll give myself up before then.”
“But you can’t!” Abby shook her head violently. “He’ll kill you!”
“Not immediately,” he agreed. “Once the Commodore tells him to pack sand, though, he will. But you...”
“The Commodore won’t give in for me either,” she said, but she was lying and he knew it.
“Yes, he would. You know he wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt his daughter.”
She turned away, looking out the window. “I doubt he even remembers us.”
Jack laughed. “Remembers you? Little Bit, he’s never gotten over losing you. If your mother hadn’t made him promise to never try and find you, ever, he’d’ve come looking for you as soon as you turned 18.”
Her head whipped around, and her mouth dropped open. For a few moments, no words came out, and then... “That bitch!” Then she flushed and dropped her gaze to her lap. “Damn her. I wondered.”
I’ll bet, he thought cynically. You’re nothing like her – I’m sure you butted heads constantly. Every time Eve looked at you, she saw your father. And she couldn’t forgive you for that.
Abby looked up at him. “Can he track you? The way Chill can?”
“Not exactly,” Jack said. “I have a beacon to light once I’ve found what I was looking for.”
“And that is?”
Jack hesitated, wondering how she’d react, and then admitted, “I was sent to find you. As soon as he felt Eve die, he sent me out.”
“My mother died six months ago.”
“I know.” He gave her an abashed grin. “It took a while to figure out where you’d gone to ground.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I needed to get away. So did Jen, I think...my mother was...”
The front door banged open, interrupting her; they both froze, looking towards the hallway. A young woman appeared, her green eyes hot with fear and anger, blond hair pulled back in a severe braid, shedding snow like crystal tears, and Jack’s mind spun. For a moment, it was twenty years earlier, on a cold winter’s day, and he stood next to the Commodore and watched Eve drag her daughters down the gangplank. Then he shook his head, and he was back in Abby’s living room.
“What the hell happened down at your shop?” the girl demanded. “And who’s this?”
“Did you lock the front door?” Jack asked, cutting Abby off as she started to respond.
“What?” Jen looked confused.
“When you came in - did you lock the door?” he repeated, and when she stared at him, he cursed and pulled himself to his feet.
“No, stay here,” Abby said. “Jen, go lock the front door, then I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Jen gave her a look, and Abby’s mouth firmed. “Go lock the door,” she repeated. “While I start the fire. It’s going to be cold tonight.” When Jen still didn’t move, Abby stood up. “NOW.”
That one word snapped at her younger sister like a whip-crack. Jack tried and failed to suppress a grin as Jen turned and ran down the hall; Abby had inherited that tone from her father as well. If we can convince her to come with us, she’ll make captain so quickly...and not just because she’s the Commodore’s daughter. She’s a true pirate.
“Now, explain,” Jen said, reappearing in the doorway a few moments later and putting her hands on her hips. “What the hell happened down at the shop? Chris called me at the hospital and told me there were shots fired!”
Jack didn’t say anything, waiting to see how Abby replied.
“There were shots fired. By me.” Abby blew gently on the small flames that flickered in the brick fireplace, coaxing the embers into a true fire. “I was persuading some jackasses to get out.”
“He said they found blood on the floor!”
“Not mine,” Abby replied, exchanging a quick glance with Jack before putting two small logs into the fireplace, then sitting back down in the armchair. “It took a bit to persuade them to go away.”
Once again, he regretted that his magic was limited to nonliving objects – he could have taken care of the blood, and no one would have been the wiser. But his gifts didn’t stretch that far, especially when his crew, his support, was gone.
“The neighbors heard broken glass.” Jen shot another look at Jack, who had managed to get back to the couch without falling over. “Funny, there wasn’t anything broken when the cops got there. Who did you shoot?”
“A couple of thugs,” Abby said. “Nothing more. And he’ll be fine – once his knee heals.”
“What is going on, Abby?” Jen shook her head. “Why were there jerks in your bead store? Who’s he? And why didn’t you stay to talk to the police?”
**
Abby sighed, wondering what how long it was going to take her sister to commit her once she heard. “It’s a long story, Jen. Take a seat, and I’ll introduce you.”
Jen claimed the other end of the sofa, eying Jack with the sort of dubiousness she normally reserved for vomit, screaming children and other noisome issues. “Start talking.”
“This is Captain Jack Frost,” Abby said, and paused, waiting for the explosion.
Her sister blinked once, twice, and then burst into laughter. “Jack Frost? Oh lord, Abby, you’ve really lost it! Jack Frost is a myth!”
“So?” Jack said, and Abby grinned at the disgruntlement in his voice. “Myths had to start with a person, you know.”
“Captain Jack Frost. Okay, whatever.” Jen dismissed him, still giggling, and looked over at her sister. “And so what, Santa Claus sent the mafia after him to break his kneecaps? In your store?” The giggles turned back into full-fledged laughter. “Did he send the elves? With candy canes?” She fell over, laughing hysterically.
“Are you done?” Abby asked after a few minutes. Jen lay on her side, holding her stomach and reduced to giggles. “Or do you need a bit longer to get yourself under control?” She heard the impatience in her voice and bit her lip. And I was accusing Jen of opening her mouth and Mom jumping out. Listen to me.
“I think so.” Jen swallowed the last chuckle and sat up again. “So, you’re Jack Frost.”
“Captain Jack Frost,” Abby corrected. “Jen, do you remember anything before we went to live with Mom?”
Her sister frowned. “What do you mean? We always lived with Mom.”
“No, we didn’t.” Abby leaned forward. “We lived with Dad until I was six. On the ship. Then Mom came back and took us.”
“Abby, I was three when you were six. I barely remember when I was six.” Jen shook her head. “Why? Why is it suddenly so important? Dad left us!”
“Because your mother forbid him to ever see you again while she was alive,” Jack said, shifting slightly and wincing. The bruises were visible even in the dim lights from the tree, the candles on the mantle and the fire, since she hadn’t turned on the room lights, and she wondered if there were more injuries he hadn’t told her about. “Once he found out she’d passed on...”
“He sent Jack to find us,” Abby interrupted. He’d said her – not them, and Abby didn’t want Jen to know that. “Except that Commodore Chill found him first.”
“And this Commodore Chill is....?”
“Insane,” Jack said bluntly. “And very powerful. He runs a military syndicate out of Beta Sco called the Acrab – the Sky Scorpions, they’re called by just about everyone. And he hates the Commodore and all we stand for.”
“Where the hell is Beta Sco?” Jen asked. “It sounds like a...”
“A star. It’s a star,” he said, and her eyes widened. “What, you thought Earth was the only interesting planet out there?”
“Are you telling me you’re claiming to be an alien?”
“No. I’m telling you I am an alien. Just like you are.”
Jen jumped up off the couch. “You’re nuts. Both of you. I’m not staying...”
The tree lights dimmed and they all looked up as a low bass rumbling shook the house.
“Dammit,” Jack said, getting up slowly and moving towards the window. “They weren’t supposed to follow this quickly.”
“How did they find us?” Abby asked, joining him at the window. The candles cast a soft glow on the falling snow, but against the dark of the clouds was a blacker bulk, a sinister shape that echoed the nightmares of her childhood.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They might have tagged me somehow, I guess. Or they might have just followed us from the store.”
“Then why not come in after us?”
“Because you have the lights up.” He grinned down at her, enjoying her blush as she remembered. “You should know that.”
Jen joined them as well. “Who are they, really? What do they want?”
“Me, right now. But if they figure out who you two are...” Jack’s voice trailed off. “We have to light the beacon now and trust that the fleet finds us before Chill decides to try and take the lights out.”
As if his words had triggered them, the tree lights dimmed again, then brightened.
“He’s testing the limits,” Jack said. “If he can, he’ll isolate the house and cut the power, so the tree lights die.”
“Let him,” Abby said. “He’ll be surprised when my generator kicks on.” When Jack turned to her, surprised, she gave him a brittle smile. “Welcome to a New England winter. I bought the house BECAUSE it had a generator.”
“It will slow him, not stop him,” Jack said. “Where’s your highest window?”
“The bathroom, up the stairs.” She watched him go, then turned to her sister. “Are you still carrying the pistol Chris gave you?”
“Yes, why?”
Abby went to the hall closet and unlocked the gun cabinet in there. Another pump-action shotgun stood there, the twin to the one she had at the store. “Because I don’t think they’re going to listen to any other reason but this one.”
“What’s the big deal with the lights?” Jen said. “Why are you both so concerned about them?”
“The tree lights are the focus to the barrier spell that the candles set up around the house,” Abby said, and Jen’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t laugh – I’m serious. That’s why I used to freak out when Mom wouldn’t let us put the lights up. I knew they’d come after us eventually, but if there’s a true believer in the house, and the tree, the final piece, is put up on the morning of Christmas Eve, then the soldiers can’t enter the home.”
“What? That’s absurd.”
Abby drew aside the curtain in the living room and pointed at the huge ship hovering over the yard. “Really? Then why haven’t they come in?”
Jen had no answer.
“It’s all real, Jen. All of it. We weren’t born here. Our father is out there, somewhere, and hopefully he’ll find us before they take us out.”
She heard Jack limp back down the stairs and turned towards him. “Beacon set,” he said. “Hopefully, the fleet is near enough to get here before Chill decides to take out your generator.”
Abby pumped the shotgun. “Can you tell how far away they are?”
Jack laughed. “It’s Christmas Eve, Little Bit. The Commodore’s a bit busy.”
“Not to help us, he’s not.”
Jen shook her head. “Insane, both of you.” She pointed at Jack. “But hurt, I can tell. Sit down and let me look at you.”
“It’s just bruises,” he protested.
“Bullshit,” she said. “Sit.” The house shivered and the lights dropped for a moment before the generator kicked on.
Abby got up, shotgun in hand. “Take care of him,” she said to Jen. “And both of you, stay inside.”
“Little Bit...”
“No.” Abby hefted the shotgun with a bleak smile. “Don’t even offer. I’m tired of letting other people interfere with my relationship with my father. That’s why he’s tracking you, isn’t it? He’s going to try to use us to force the Commodore to step down.” Jack opened his mouth but she didn’t let him answer. “I know, trust me. Why else would he follow you? He knows why you’re here, Jack. And I’ll be damned if I let him take my mother’s place in keeping my father away from me. Watch him, Jen, and don’t let him interfere.”
She stalked down the hallway and threw the front door open. The motion sensor light went on as she did, spilling a brilliant white-gold glow over the newly fallen snow and the group of men who had been trying to sneak up to the house. Abby settled the shotgun on her shoulder and called out, “Which one of you is Chill?”
“Why?” a man shouted back.
“Because Abby Sinclair wants to talk to him,” she replied, and from behind her, she heard Jack groan. “I’ve got a deal for him.”
“A deal?” The man looked at her warily. “What kind of deal?”
“Are you Chill?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. I’m only discussing this deal with him.” When he continued to look at her, she added, “Unless you want to try and rush me. Then you’ll find out just how fast I can reload this.” And she made a show of clicking off the safety.
The soldier who had spoken turned to his companion and held out his hand; the other man handed him what looked like a cell phone, and he spoke quietly into it. Abby waited patiently, the gun held loosely, ready to be brought up and fired at an instant. After a few moments, there was a puff of snow, and an older man, dressed in the same kind of uniform as the others, but with gold trim edging the sleeves, came into the light.
“Well, well, well,” he said, and Abby blinked. His voice was gravelly, like her grandfather’s had been, and kinder than she’d expected. “So the child has grown into a woman.”
“It happens,” she said. “Are you Chill?”
“Yes, I am Commodore Chill,” he said, with a slight emphasis on the title she’d intentionally omitted. “The leader of the Acrab. It’s good to meet you again, Miss Sinclair. Now, if you’ll just come with me, I’ll be very happy. And so will you.”
“No.”
His white eyebrows rose at her simple refusal. “Now, really, that’s hardly polite.”
“Neither is your crewmen deciding to bounce Captain Frost through my storefront,” Abby retorted. “Or cutting the power to my house. Come and try to take us, and I’ll splatter your brains all over the side of your ship. Now listen to me.”
Chill gave her a steady look, but didn’t say anything.
“You’re going to leave here, without me, and without Captain Frost,” Abby said. “And you’re going to go back to your little backwater star system, and you’re not going to come back here. Ever.” Her mouth firmed. “I know why you’re here, and it’s not just for me. How many children have you stolen this month to use in your fleet, you bastard?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The shotgun she’d been holding so casually came up with lightning speed, and she pointed it at him. “Liar. I remember. Why do you think this house is protected? My father made sure I knew how to keep us safe.”
Chill smiled, and the predatory look in his eyes was a direct contrast to the voice. “It’s very well done. I commend you.”
“Thank you.”
“Too bad it’s dependent on a generator,” Chill continued. “I hear they’re very fickle machines.”
Something rumbled behind him, and the hair on Abby’s neck rose. There was a brilliant flash, and then the lights died. Smoke tickled her nose.
“Especially when you hit them with a laser cannon,” Chill said, and smiled again. “You should have extended your protections to include your power source, and you might have had something to bargain with. Now, let’s discuss this civilly, shall we?”
He stepped forward into the yard, followed by his men. The lights were dark, and Abby tightened her grip on the gun. “I don’t want to kill you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I will.”
“And how many bullets do you have?” Chill asked her, slowly walking towards the door. “Enough to take all of us?”
“If necessary.” Fear made her throat dry. “Do you want to find out?”
He stopped and cocked his head at her, as if deciding. “You won’t kill all of us.”
“Why not? What do I have to lose?” Abby laughed. “I’m damned sure I’m not going to let you take me, or Captain Frost, or my sister. What else would you have me do?”
“I think I can make a better offer than you think,” Chill said. “You could travel the universe again.”
“With you? No, thanks. I’d rather slit my own throat than become part of your crew. My father would die of shame.”
“Your father abandoned you.”
Abby laughed again. “Nice try. My father gave into my mother, who was a psychotic bitch. She’s dead. I don’t give a shit about what she thinks anymore. And when my father gets here, he’s going to blow your ship out of the sky. And then I’ll leave with him.”
“He hasn’t shown up yet, though,” Chill pointed out. “And if he does, that will be perfect. I can take you all into custody.”
“No, you won’t.” Suddenly, Jack and Jen were both at her side, Jen with her pistol drawn and a grim look on her face. “Because I think I can safely say that we’ll all die before you get your hands on us.”
“Agreed,” Jen growled. “Pervert. Stealing kids to serve in your military? You should have your balls removed with a hand grenade.” When Abby started, she said, “Jack told me more while you were out here. I’m with you – I’ll eat this gun before I leave with him.”
“So you’d go with pirates instead, Miss Sinclair? You do know your father is wanted in more solar systems than I can count easily, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Abby said, and felt Jen nod. “Because he may be hated by the governments, but the people love him. You just can’t stand that he brings happiness to people.”
Jack leaned over and she felt his warm breath on her ear. “Keep him talking – I can...” And then his voice stopped, strangled, and hands grabbed Abby from behind.
She got off one round before the gun was wrestled from her hands; there was a scream, which told her she marked someone. Jen’s pistol cracked once as well, and her sister gave a shout of pure rage. Strong hands hauled her to her feet and held her immobile as Chill came up the walk.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling benignly at all three of them. “That was much easier than I thou...”
And then he paused, frowning, looking over Abby’s head. She blinked as the long barrel of what looked like a revolver came past her right cheek, pointed straight at Chill.
“Now, then, I suggest that you do what my daughter asked,” a deep voice that she’d heard in her dreams said, and Abby gasped. “Get back in your ship and leave. Take your spoils – they’re the last you’ll get here.”
Chill’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for the first moments. Then he said, “How did you...?”
“Your boys weren’t concerned with the sky,” the Commodore said. “And The North Pole runs quieter than your monster. Now, are you going to leave? Or do we need to convince you?”
“You can’t stop us,” Chill snarled, raising his hand. A second cruiser shimmered into view, next to the first. “This time, Claus, you are mine!”
“I doubt it.” At those words, flames blossomed from the massive black ship on the horizon; explosions ripped along the sides, and it tilted, then fell into the snowy hillside.
“Do you want to lose both ships?” the Commodore continued. “Turn around and start walking – or Christmas Eve or no, I’ll blow you away here and now. We’re leaving – and I’m taking my daughters with me. If you don’t mind.”
Chill’s eyes blazed. “One of these days, Claus, I will take you down.”
“Maybe.” Commodore Claus chuckled. “But I doubt it.” He gestured meaningfully with the revolver. “Move it.”
Chill gave him one more hate-filled look, then he turned around and stomped off.
“Is that wise, sir?” Jack said from somewhere behind her.
“I won’t kill him, Jack. Not here. Not tonight. Not unless he truly forced me to.”
The hands holding Abby let go, and she spun around. There he stood, just as she remembered: the great coat, the boots and the hat, but most of all, the jaunty, devil-may-care grin. “Hello, Little Bit,” he said. “Ready to go?”
“Definitely.” She threw herself in his arms. “I’ve been ready since I was six.” Then Abby turned to Jen. “You’ll come too, right?”
Jen looked from Abby to Jack to the Commodore. “Do I have a choice?”
“Always,” the Commodore said, frowning at her. “I won’t force you against your will.”
“Then, no, I won’t leave.” Abby gaped at her, and Jen shook her head. “I’m happy here on Earth, Abby. It’s my home. But you aren’t. You’ll come back and visit, right?”
“But...”
Jen grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Go,” she whispered. “You want to. Just don’t forget me.”
“I won’t,” Abby promised, hugging her back. “And maybe next time...”
“Maybe.” Jen stepped back into the house. “Now go. You’ll always know where to find me. Just look for the lights.”
“I can’t guarantee Chill won’t try and find you, Jen,” Claus said, a worried light in his eyes.
“I know.” Jen raised her chin. “I’ll disappear, I promise. And if I need help...”
Claus walked over to her, hugged her and handed her a small device. “If you need us, call. We’ll come.” Then he looked back at Abby. “Ready, Little Bit?”
And as Abby stepped outside, a schooner, sails set, glided over the horizon, past the burning hulk of Chill’s cruiser and into the front yard. A rope ladder was flung down over the side, and her heart rose. She gave Jen one last look, then climbed up.
“Welcome home, Little Bit,” her father said. “Merry Christmas.”
The End
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Re: Yup
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Yay - loves it :D
thanks you!
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