The air warmed. She could feel it. Encouraged, she poured more and more of herself, of whatever it was building in her, out around Mojag, until the air itself began to glow with warmth. Heat.
Mojag sighed, his chin lifting. “Warm…”
“Yes.”
•
THE BRIGHT LIGHT OF EARLY dawn dazzled her, and Harley winced and shut her eyes again.
“No, take her inside,” she heard someone say, with a snap of authority in his voice. “She needs heat.”
She was being carried.
“She kept me warm, all night.” That was Mojag, his voice strained.
Harley tried to move, but her arms and legs felt like cold iron.
“Stay still,” came the voice once more. “You’re exhausted. You used up too much of your energy, fighting the cold. As soon as everyone is gone, I can help you.”
A hand on her face. Another on her shoulder, the heel of the palm against her chest.
Heat surged through her, and it felt like the warmest of hot showers, cascading through her like bubbling, heated champagne. Harley gasped, drawing in air that was just as hot. It was life giving.
She had the energy to open her eyes and wasn’t surprised to find Campbell crouched over her. He lifted his hands away from her face and neck, the red glow in them fading. “That was close.”
“Your night manager…” She tried to sit up. They were in a small room with wooden slat benches around the edges. An old locker room.
“Let me deal with him,” Campbell said shortly. He got to his feet and held out his hand to her.
Reluctantly, because she was still weak, Harley let him help her to her feet and looked around more thoroughly.
The room wasn’t a locker room anymore. On the other side of the room, under the windows, long trestle tables had been set up and covered in butcher’s paper. An urn steamed at one end, with towers of squat white cups beside it, and boxes of tea and cartons of almond and soy milk. Baskets of bread, buns, muffins. Pots of nut butters. Fruit, sliced and chopped, and a basket of oranges. Then serving trays with lids on them, condensation inside the lid hiding what was inside them, but she suspected it wasn’t bacon and eggs.
“What the hell…?” Harley breathed and glanced at Campbell.
He looked embarrassed. “Breakfast. For the day shift.”
He fed his workers breakfast.
Harley reached out for the wall beside her, staring at the piles of white bowls and plates, knives and forks and spoons waiting for people to come pick them up and move along the tables, helping themselves to food that wouldn’t poison them. Most of the old races couldn’t eat meat. This breakfast was ideally suited to their needs.
Wow.
Campbell shifted on his feet. It was the first time she had seen him look anything but urbane. So, she changed the subject, because she would have to think about this, too. “How did you know we were in the container, if you had nothing to do with it?”
“The steam billowing out of the windows.” Campbell smiled. “It looked like the container was about to pop its lid.” His smile faded. “This should not have happened. I’m appalled that it did.”
Oddly, she believed him. “You and I have things to discuss,” she said, then sank down onto the bench beside her as her knees gave out. “Later,” she added.
•
IT WAS CLOSE TO SUNSET when Campbell showed up at the station. He stepped inside as the door bell jangled and brushed snow off his western hat, for it was snowing again. He looked around the station, his expression curious.
Mojag and Bohdan had progressed a long way in clearing out the room, although there were still piles of junk and dirt here and there. But one could navigate the room now and not be in danger of tripping on something, or getting their wings snagged.
One of them had found an old armchair and put it in front of the stove. That was where Harley was sitting, the blanket pulled in tight around her even though the stove was blasting heat.
“Cold?” Campbell asked.
“Freezing,” she admitted.
“You’ll have to treat yourself nicely for a few days until you get back to normal core heat,” Campbell said, his tone one of authority.
He was a dragon, she reminded herself. “I’m always cold,” she countered. “It’s winter.”
“You shouldn’t feel the cold at all,” he said, coming over to the fire. “Not if you’re taking care of yourself.” He looked down at the box she had upended and put beside the chair and the neat pile of folded cotton sitting on it. “Sheets?”
“I found them in the secondhand store on the main street.”
“Your landlord didn’t give you a set?”
“I…something happened to them.” She stirred. “I’m kinda off duty, Campbell.”
He reached into his coat and withdrew a silver hipflask. “That’s why I’m here. This will help a bit.”
“Bourbon?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Scotch.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a heathen.”
“Coulda fooled me.” She took the flask anyway and drank deep. It did warm her, just a little.
Campbell shifted a pile of old magazines off the top of the orange crate, moved the crate to the other side of the stove and settled on it carefully. “I wanted to let you know that David is no longer in my employ.”
“I know.”
Campbell raised his brow. “You do, hmm?”
“Bohdan saw an orc heading into Sundre with a duffel bag. Most of the old races arrive here. They don’t leave here. I put two and two together.” She hesitated. “I had Bohdan take him the rest of the way to Sundre and hand him over to the RCMP.”
“I see,” Campbell said heavily.
“It’s my job, Von Havre.”
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes. “But David is a non-person, legally, so all they can do is question him, and even then, he can refuse to answer without comeback.”
Campbell considered her. “You don’t like that.”
“No.” She pulled the blanket in around her once more. There was more she could say, but Von Havre had been the orc’s boss. Then she
