Claus

Ten

Faryn woke too early. Only 7 AM but it felt like the afternoon. Even if she was still exhausted, her body wouldn't let her go back to sleep, and breakfast wouldn't be served until 9.

She made herself get up and change, planning to see about washing her clothes, and also, if Peter was up, seeing if her mother had tried calling during the night.

It wasn't too hard to find the laundry room. It was more like a mini laundromat with seven washers, four of which were available. The other three weren't running but had wet clothes inside. After she put her load in and hit start, she made her way to Peter's office, not really expecting him to be in there yet. And as she expected, there was no answer when she knocked.

Faryn found a couch in the lounge to settle into until breakfast. Though no one else was around, the TV was turned on and to a Human news station. The better part of her hour and a half was spent listening to reports about an economy that didn't yet matter to her, politicians she had never heard of except for maybe one or two, and about food recalls, which might matter to her depending on from where Peter ordered his food.

When breakfast was laid out on the dining table, a spread of bagels, pastries, and fruit, she was the first to be seated. A few female Nymphs entered the room yawing and offering her tired smiles.

Once they were seated, they set about filling their plates, and Faryn took that as a sign that it was okay to dive in.

A few minutes into her breakfast feast, Peter slunk in still looking half asleep, but managed a wave and a yawn to Faryn before dropping into the seat beside her. A staff member came out of the kitchen, a latte or cappuccino or some frothy espresso drink in a shimmery silver mug in their hands, and offered it to Peter.

It was already 9 and they were only now starting breakfast. The workday must start late in Peter's house. At home, breakfast was served at 7:30 so anyone who had early classes wouldn't go on an empty stomach.

Faryn lowered her chocolate croissant to her plate. "Did my mom . . ."

Without a word, he slid his phone to her and shook his head.

She dialed her mom again, but this time when she held the phone to her ear, it went straight to voicemail.

When Cassian decided to make an appearance, Faryn was on her second latte—a decision she knew she would soon regret. He looked refreshed, his hair wet, and eased down into the chair across from her with more grace than Faryn could hope to muster while jetlagged. He plucked a blueberry tart from the center platter and cut into it with his knife.

He glanced at the two of them before taking a bite.

With his drink now empty, Peter worked on making his way through a plate of fruit. "There's a human city not far from here. I can clear out some time to go with you both so you can get anything you may need."

Faryn's bag was already rather full, but another long-sleeved shirt would be good, if they were going to Sleet City, and a pair or two of socks and underwear.

Cassian chewed his food and nodded, his focus on cutting his tart. For some reason she felt like shoving his face into it.

"We'd really appreciate that," Faryn said.

Cassian laid down his fork. "Are you sure the two of you wouldn't rather handle it on your own?"

She glowered at the Fata. Let Jack find her now. She'd go with him happily.

*****

Even though it was five days since Christmas, the small Nebraska town Faryn found herself being driven into was still fully decorated for the holiday. It was as if Nick had personally sent one of his decorators. Lights hung from nearly every establishment, and a couple had the blue star of David.