She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned on him. “Maybe I’ll just chew the buttons off your coat. How about that?”
“I don’t have any buttons, just zippers.” He sighed. “So tell me. What happened down there? I mean, what really happened?”
She shrugged and looked away. “There was a hole in the ice. I caught a glimpse of it just in time.”
“It was pitch-black, Nest. I couldn’t see anything.”
She nodded. “I know, but I see pretty well at night.”
He brushed at his mop of blond hair and looked over at John Ross, who was kneeling in front of Little John, speaking softly to him, the boy looking somewhere else. “I don’t know, Nest. Last time something weird like this happened, he was here, too. Remember?”
“Don’t start, Robert.”
“Fourth of July, fifteen years ago, when the fireworks blew up on the slope right below us, and you went chasing after him, and I went chasing after you, and you coldcocked me in the trees…”
She stepped back from him. “Stop it, Robert. This isn’t John’s fault. He wasn’t even with us on the sled.”
Robert shrugged. “Maybe so. But maybe it’s too bad that he’s here at all. I just don’t feel good about him, Nest. Sorry.”
She shook her head and faced him. “Robert, you were always a little on the pigheaded side. It was an endearing quality when we were kids, and I guess it still is. Sort of. But you’ll understand, I hope, if I don’t share your one-sided, unsubstantiated, half-baked judgments of people you don’t really know.”
She took a deep breath. “Try to remember that John Ross is a friend.” He looked so chastened, she almost laughed. Instead, she shoved him playfully. “Take Kyle and go home to Amy and your parents. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He nodded and began to move away. Then he looked back at her. “I may be pigheaded, but you are too trusting.” He nodded at Ross, then toward Bennett Scott. “Do me a favor. Watch out for yourself.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and walked over to Ross, who rose to greet her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She glanced around to make sure they were out of earshot. Little John stood next to them, but his gaze was flat and empty and directed out at the night. She put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, but he didn’t respond.
“Gask opened the ice in front of us on that last run,” she said quietly. “Pick warned me in time, and I tipped the sled over and threw us into a snowbank. The sled went into the water, and the ice closed over it and crunched it into kindling. I think. It was dark, and I didn’t care to go out for a closer look. My guess is that what happened to the sled was supposed to happen to us.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know this is my fault. I’m the one who talked us into coming. I just didn’t think Gask would try anything.”
Ross nodded. “Don’t blame yourself. I didn’t think he would, either.” His gaze wandered off toward the trees. “I’m wondering who this attack was directed at.” He paused and looked back at her. “Do you see what I mean?”
She kicked at the snow with her boot, her head lowering. “I do. Was Gask after us or Little John?” She thought about it a moment. “Does he know Little John is a gypsy morph, and if he does, would he try to destroy him before finding a way to claim the magic for himself?”
Ross exhaled wearily, his breath clouding the air between them. “Demons can’t identify morphs unless a morph is using its magic, and that usually happens only when it’s changing shape. Little John hasn’t changed since we got here.” He frowned doubtfully. “Maybe Gask guessed the truth.”
Nest shook her head. “That doesn’t feel right. This attack was a kind of broadside intended to take out whoever got in the way. It was indiscriminate.” She paused. “Gask warned me what would happen if I tried to help you.”