Free Tangled Ashes by Michèle Phoenix

fine job.
    It was only after his eyes had adjusted to the dark that Becker noticed a faint light coming from the gatehouse. It shone, wavering, out the side window. A candle, perhaps, or light from a fireplace. Beck thought he saw a figure crossing the lawn in the fog, heading toward the stables with purpose and stealth—no more than a moving shadow in the stillness of the night—but he couldn’t be sure. The fog swirled on a soft, cold breeze, and the apparition vanished into the mobile gray.
    Becker pushed the window nearly closed and returned to his bed. He held a hand up in front of his face. It shook visibly. He needed a drink—he needed it badly. But he’d been so busy during the day with planning and shopping for supplies that he’d forgotten how difficult his nights were without booze. He lay back, an arm bent behind his head, and tried to keep himself awake by planning for the work that would begin in just a few hours. As long as he didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t dream. And as long as he didn’t dream, he’d be okay.

    Morning came as a relief. So did the smell of coffee and eggs wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. Becker got up quickly after merely dozing for a good portion of the night and rejuvenated his spirits with a long, hot shower. His mother had always told him that a cold one would do even better to wash away the cobwebs in his mind, but he wasn’t willing to test her theory quite yet.
    He entered the kitchen with still-wet hair and the firm intention of being civil, which usually required limited contact with humans. His resolution teetered a little when he found Thérèse sitting at the table. Jade was slicing bread at the counter.
    “Good morning,” he said, stopping just inside the kitchen’s archway, eyeing the pot of coffee still in the percolator and the pan of eggs on the stove. He glanced at Thérèse, who sat starchily across from the twins. She nodded her greeting. The twins watched him with a mixture of awe and caution. He looked at Eva. She immediately averted her gaze, dropping her chin and letting her eyes drift toward her brother. When Beck looked at Philippe, the six-year-old crossed his arms and stared right back. He was wearing the same outfit as his sister, though his sweatshirt was blue and hers was red. But the jeans and sneakers were pretty much the same.
    “Shouldn’t you be reading or writing or something?” Beck asked. He wasn’t crazy about talking to kids, particularly not first thing in the morning.
    Eva, whose hair was pulled back on the sides with barrettes that matched her sweatshirt, leaned across the table toward him and spoke in a secretive voice. “Jade said we don’t have to start until eight thirty. That way she can make breakfast for everybody and get it cleaned up.”
    “Yeah?” Becker wasn’t exactly pleased by the news. “Sounds like a good reason to eat somewhere else,” he muttered. “That way you two can start your lessons earlier.”
    Eva’s eyes widened. Eating in another room was apparently frowned on. But Jade turned from the counter with a basket of bread in her hands and deposited it on the table with a smile that held a bit of a challenge. “You, Mr. Becker,” she said, “are a grown-up. You can eat wherever you like.”
    “Good,” he said. “I’ll take it in my office, then.”
    Jade’s smile got deeper and, somehow, a little icier too. “I’ll bring it right in,” she said with utter courtesy.
    Becker turned toward the door.
    “In case you’re wondering,” came Thérèse’s shrill voice, “I’m waiting on a crew from the satellite company in Chantilly. They’re sending someone over to install the dish. Should be here any minute.” Her voice trailed off as Becker slipped out of sight. He was fairly sure he heard her harrumph and the children giggle before he closed the door.
    Jade entered his office a few minutes later, holding a tray loaded with breakfast. Beck was sitting at the desk, having moved it closer