Page 32 of In Stockings
“Oh, Granny Hart told Grandpa you were probably sleeping with my daddies, so …”
“Right,” I manage a smile; it’s not like she was wrong, “maybe we can have a sleepover next time.”
“You’re coming to play with us again?”
“I hope so.”
We walk together onto the landing and downstairs to where her dads are gathered in the hallway.
“Goodbye, TwinkleToes,” Lyra says as I hug her tight.
Samson helps me into my coat and I step out into the dark afternoon, rain spitting from the thickening clouds overhead. I walk down the garden path. At the pavement, I turn around and peer back at the front door. They’re all there, lit up in the doorway, Lyra balancing in Craig’s arms.
I don’t want to leave. It feels as if I’m tearing myself away from some magical dream.
I wave to them, and Lyra waves back, Samson winking and Archie giving me a little salute.
My heart spasms. I hope this is real. I hope I’ll be back. Because a niggle worries at the back of my mind. I know they have their sensible reasons, but if I really am their mate, how can they let me go?
8
Craig
I’m at the firehouse,cleaning the truck when the bell goes off. I pull on my uniform and equipment as the others come dashing towards me. It’s one of those rare days I'm on duty with my other packmates, and Lyra is with our cousin Vee.
“What is it?” I ask, not liking the concerned look on Samson’s face as he swings a helmet onto the crown of his head.
“Fire at the hospital.” He meets my eye. “At the grotto.”
“Shit!” I say, leaping behind the wheel of the truck. I have the lights spinning, the alarm blaring and the truck backing out of the station before Archie’s finished opening the station doors. He leaps up into the cab, and I press my foot to the floor. Samson reaches for the handle as he’s thrown back in his seat. But I don’t give a shit.
Our omega!
Our omega is working at the grotto today!
I swerve through traffic and hurtle down the streets. The journey passes in barely ten minutes, yet feels like an age, and I swear at cars that fail to move out of my way, growling at the stupid way the roads twist and turn. Finally, I skid to a stop outside the hospital. A small crowd stands on the pavement outside the building, and the alarm is screeching loudly. But I can’t see any smoke hanging in the air or billowing from the building, and I don’t catch any whiff of it either.
A man in a white coat with a name badge pinned to his chest comes scuttling towards us.
“I’m so sorry,” he huffs, wringing his hands “False alarm.”
“False alarm?” I say. I eye up the hospital entrance. “Are you sure?”
“Some kid pressed the alarm, and we couldn't shut it down. It’s malfunctioning or something.”
I stride straight to the entrance, through the sliding doors, behind the empty reception desk and pull back the door on the panel hidden on the wall. I hit several buttons, and the alarm cuts dead.
The man in the white coat has followed me. “Thank God for that.”
“You’re sure no one is hurt? Sure there’s no fire?”
“Yes, Santa saw the child press the button.”
“We’re going to do a sweep anyway,” Archie tells him.
“Whatever you like,” the man says, already hurrying away.
“You think it was really a kid that pressed that button or a naughty little elf?” I say.
