She cleaned all the blood and mud away late last night after they’d gotten Col and Alexander back to the house, though she still kept finding stray drops of it everywhere. She wiped the wet cloth over the side of her toaster. Who was she kidding? She’d never eat toast made with this again. May as well throw it in the trash.
She’d healed Col and Alexander both the best she could manage, even with drawing magic from both Shaw and Toren. Exhausted, she still couldn’t rest and had set about cleaning away any reminder that one of those horrible beasts had been in her home, in her son’s room, and nearly killed him.
Yet Alexander had killed it instead.
Toren and Shaw examined the burning husk in the forge, taking it away before she’d have to look upon it.
Sorrow swelled in her heart for Alexander.
The first day he’d found his magic, he’d had to use it to kill.
“Honey.” Grandma melded beside her and took the rag out of her hand. “I’ll do it. You need to rest.” After Charity called her last night, she and Grandpa had taken a magno-copter right away, arriving in the wee hours of the morning, earlier than they had planned on coming in for the holiday.
“I can’t. It’s Christmas. I need to clean this up.”
Taking her elbow, Grandma turned her and Charity found herself wrapped in the elderly woman’s still strong embrace. “No, you don’t. Everything’s all right, love. Our lads are safe and on the mend. We’re all here together. That’s what matters.”
Except they weren’t all here. Charity rested her head on Grandma’s shoulder, suddenly missing Lenore with a keenness that hurt, and listened to the men in the living room. Grandpa was putting up a fairly good argument over taking the remains of the Sift, charred or not, back to his government contacts for research purposes. Toren was not having it, standing firm that Sift DNA was too dangerous in the wrong hands.
Shaw hadn’t said a word, though she imagined the guilt he must feel any time a Sift caused anyone harm. Her heart went out to him.
Charity lifted her head, seeing movement coming from the spare bedroom. “Col.”
All conversation stopped as the youngest brother staggered into the room. Shaw and Toren rushed to flank him, guiding him to the sofa.
Col rolled his eyes. “Coddling mams, the lot of ye.” He picked up the remote. “What movies do ye have? I’d like to see one before we leave.”
Charity grinned in spite of herself. Since coming to the modern century, he’d had a penchant for movies. “Hundreds to choose from. And you’re not going back until you’re fully rested.”
His face crumbled. “But Lenore will be worried.”
Again, that tiny pang tripped in her heart.
Grandma squeezed her arm as she moved past her and took the remote from Col, ruffling his wayward hair. The wave to it was the only thing that set him apart from his brothers and their long straight locks.
“A new Batman just came out.” Grandma slipped in next to Col.
Charity drew in a healing breath, grateful for the little piece of normalcy after the harrowing events of yesterday. She felt Toren watching her and lifted her eyes to him, finding solace in his understanding gaze.
It was Christmas and they were together and safe. Their son had survived his first encounter with a Sift, and was sleeping in hers and Toren’s bed. After seeing the shape of his room last night, she’d ordered the guys to put him into their room. Knowing Alexander he’d have a myriad of questions for them once he awoke. Questions she never wanted him to have to ask, even knowing it was all inevitable with what they knew of his future.
Damn, damn, the ability to time travel. Yet had she not gone back to the Thirteenth Century, she would not have Toren and Alexander would never have been born.
They were worth it.
They were worth everything.
She straightened her shoulders and crossed the room to Toren, taking his offered hand. It was going to be a fine, fine Christmas.
The rift opened up behind them in the kitchen, the very place she just stepped away from.
It felt different, controlled, not spiraling out of control as the other rifts she’d traveled through. She turned in Toren’s arms to face it even as he stepped around her, shielding her with his own body. She felt the others in the room move around them, taking up defensive positions. Toren shouted for Shaw to go protect Alexander, though his voice was snatched away by the buffeting wind.
Charity only had eyes for the rift in time, the serene beauty of it, like violet liquid shimmering in the air. There was no fear, even as a figure stepped out of the light, a dark form silhouetted in luminous brightness.
She pushed around Toren, rushing to get to him. She’d know the tall form anywhere, felt the uniqueness of his presence.
“Alexander.”
She dragged her arms around him, felt the firmness of his arms sweep around her and crush her to him.
“Hi, Mom.” His voice choked over the top of her hair.
She felt others move out of the rift around them. And felt Toren’s presence come up behind her. “Son.”
Oh she didn’t want to let go of him, could hold onto him, hold him here, safe and healthy, forever, yet she moved back to allow Toren his chance.
Toren lifted the chamois throw they kept on the back of the wing-backed chair and handed it to Alexander. Shy beneath the gaze of his father, Alexander took it and wrapped it around his hips. Hesitant, her husband and grown son stared at each other, obviously bereft of the right words.
Until Toren pulled Alexander into a hard embrace and just held on. “I’m so proud of ye, lad. So very proud.”
Alexander made a small hitching sound and jammed his forehead into the crook of Toren’s neck. The veins in his arms lifted with how tight he grasped onto his dad.
Tears hazing her vision, Charity smeared them across her cheeks.
“Let me get a look at you.” Grandma came forward and Toren and Alexander stepped apart. Grandma took both of Alexander’s hands in her own while her gaze roved over him. She lifted a palm across the scar on his side and then up to the circle on his shoulder. “I can heal those.”
“No,” Alexander and Toren said at the same time. The rift flared behind him as though it emanated with his emotions.
“He earned those,” Toren said and Alexander’s eyes flashed to his face. Again, Charity was amazed at how her men could convey so much between them with one look.
“Alexander, what are you doing here?” Charity took his wrists. She couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop making sure he was real and really here.
His grin was lopsided, so like the child she knew. “I brought them home to you.”
Charity looked behind her, seeing Edeen and Lenore ensconced in bathrobes and sheets, whatever the guys had grabbed that was close.
Grandpa stared at Roque. “My gods, you are exactly the same.”
“Alex.” Smiling Roque pulled Grandpa into his embrace, lifting him off his feet.
Lenore was wrapped in Col’s arms.
Lenore. Charity’s throat started closing around the swell of emotion. Her sister was here for Christmas.
“You’re all back? It’s over?”
Alexander’s Adam’s apple bounced. “It is for them.”
A low pulse started buzzing inside Charity’s head, keeping rhythm with her fluctuating heart. The rift was still open. Alexander was keeping it open.
“No, don’t go. Stay here. Just for a while. Please.”
Moisture coated his expressive eyes. “You know I can’t. My younger self is asleep in the other room, and…he’s not ready for all the questions my being here will bring.” He pulled her against him again. “I love you, Mom. Merry Christmas.” He kissed the top of her head.
She felt numb all over. Her heart was breaking again as she slipped away, all the tiny fractured pieces falling to her toes.
He looked toward the bedroom where his young self was sleeping and then clasped forearms
with his Dad, and nodded.
Dropping the throw, he turned and walked into the rift and let himself be swallowed by the light.
Tears streaming down her face, she watched the swirling violet shimmer shrink and disappear. Covering her face with her hands she curled over until she felt Toren’s arms envelope her and pull her back against him.
“Mom?” The quiet voice brought her back to herself. Alexander stood at the hallway, eyes taking in all the people crammed in their living room. “What’s going on?”
The End and Happy Holidays