Christine Feehan's Blog - Posts Tagged "vingette"

The roar of the Harleys could be heard long before they turned off of Highway 1 toward the farm where the president of Torpedo Ink resided with his wife Blythe and his four children. Czar had put a call out for the club members to come. When he called, they answered, and they did so quickly, without question.

Steele had never liked leaving Czar and his family unprotected, no matter what the man said. He often objected to the bodyguards they left posted behind. Whatever it was couldn’t be too bad because both Reaper and Savage were watching over the family and neither had texted the code for emergency.

In tight formation, armed with weapons, prepared for anything, the members of Torpedo Ink drove through the gates of the large acreage that heralded the farm, Czar and Blythe shared with five other families. Each family had their own home and the one they went to was a two-story sprawling house surrounded by five acres that divided Blythe’s section on the farm from the others.

As the club came into the front yard where the parking was designated for their motorcycles, they could see lights like dripping icicles hanging from the eaves. The roof had been lined in blue lights shining through a bed of snow. Perched on the roof were reindeer and a sleigh filled with lighted packages in every color of blinking lights.

Candy cane lights lined the stairs and glowed around the door. Steele looked around him at the others. They were all smiling when they rarely smiled. Christmas music poured from the house as if the songs were too big to be contained. Even Maestro smiled, and he never did. The club members shook their heads as they slowly shut down their bikes.

The door burst open and Emily, the youngest of Blythe and Czar’s adopted children rushed down the stairs. “Hurry,” she shouted. “We’re going to get the lights on. Mommy said you would be the fastest cuz you’re taller, Ice and Storm. But you gotta hurry so we can decorate the tree.”

The twins looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and allowed Emily to grab their hands. Neither had time to get their gloves off. Behind them, the rest of the club crowded close.

There were eighteen survivors of the school in Russia and they were as interdependent on one another now as they were then. All were familiar with Blythe’s house and they came and went as if it was part of their collective territory.

The house smelled of spice and cinnamon. Somehow it felt like home when they’d never had one. Blythe was always accepting of them and welcomed them around her children.

Just inside the great room, which was very open with high ceilings, was an enormous tree. They all stopped and stared at the thing. They knew others celebrated Christmas by bringing trees in the house and decorating them, but they didn’t go in people’s homes—unless they were there to kill them. That wasn’t the Christmas spirit and all of them were fairly certain Blythe wouldn’t approve.

“Um, Blythe,” Steele, the vice president of Torpedo Ink called out. “What exactly is this?” He was fairly proud of himself for censoring. They got fined by the children for foul language. He was certain the girls already had enough money for a four-year college.
Blythe came out of the kitchen, all smiles, which made Steele very suspicious. He glanced back at his brothers and Alena and Lana, the two women in their club. All looked just as suspicious as he did.

“I’m so glad you’re here. We can’t decorate the tree until you put the lights on it. Ice and Storm are tall. Transporter, you and Mechanic are the tallest. I have ladders so if you get on them on all four sides, we can maybe the get the lights up fast so the kids can decorate tonight.”

Ice, Storm, Transporter, and Mechanic backed up and stared up the tree until they were looking at the top which was nearly hitting the sixteen-foot ceiling.
“You don’t have anyone for us to beat up for you, Blythe? Some kid maybe giving Kenny a hard time,” Ice asked. “We could do that for you.”

“Or kill them if it’s one of the girls,” Storm offered. “Anyone giving them a hard time deserves an unmarked grave.”

Blythe laughed as though they didn’t mean it. Steele joined her, now that he knew he wasn’t the one having to climb the ladder and pretend he knew how the hell to put on Christmas lights. He leaned into Blythe. “This was Czar’s idea, wasn’t it? To railroad us into putting on the lights so he didn’t have to.”

“You know that man so well,” she replied, her eyes dancing with merriment.

Being with Blythe made them all happy. She was just so accepting of them, of their lack of social graces, of the gaps in their knowledge, of everything about each of them.

“Don’t understand this Christmas shi.. stuff,” he corrected quickly. “What’s it all about?”

The others nodded, all looking to Blythe the way they often did when nothing made sense to them. She found herself in the middle, surrounded by all seventeen of them. Where Czar was, was anyone’s guess. Steele figured upstairs taking a nap after wearing himself out laughing.

Blythe was Blythe and she always tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible. “I celebrate Christmas as both a religious holiday and a fun traditional one with the children. I want them to have both. I take them to church and talk to them about the Christian aspect of Christmas because I believe in it and want them to have the strength and morals that come with those beliefs.”

Ice shook his head. “Some of us don’t have a hope in hell, babe. God turned his back on us a long time ago.”
“He doesn’t do that, Ice. I know that supposed school you were in was the worst, but it wasn’t God who put you there.”

“Maybe not, but to save others, we had to sell our souls to the devil,” Ice explained. He meant every word. “Easier not to think about those things.” His voice rang with sincerity.

Blythe was Blythe. She didn’t argue, but she did lessen the blow. She shook her head slightly. “Honey, selling your soul to save someone else isn’t binding. There are other beliefs and traditions in every country around the world, some in conflict with the religious beliefs of Christmas. I teach the children my personal belief, which is everyone has the right to believe what they feel in their hearts. I don’t have the right to judge nor do I want my children to. I want every human being to feel safe and happy.”

“What’s all the presents about, and the Christmas tree with all these decorations?” Steele asked, indicating the mountains of decorations Blythe had waiting to be put up in the room.

“Fun,” Blythe said immediately. “Creating traditions for your family and friends. At least that’s what it is for me. These children need tradition and fun just as much as they need me teaching them about faith.”

Steele knew she was implying they all needed the fun as well. The others immediately went to her decorations and began going through them.



Thank you for spending a moment with Torpedo Ink. If you'd like to read an extended version of this vignette you can join my free online community and read more here- Extended Story



I wish everyone a happy holiday!