It wasn't a pleasant coldness. It was the kind that made you walk all the faster and brace your head against the wind. No matter how warm the blood in your veins, your face got frozen just the same. In spring time the water lies softly on the ground, but on that day it was solid to a drop in every from it could take. From soft snow underfoot to the icicles that hung from the railway bridge and the black ice that lay in wait on the freeway, nothing flowed. It was a day to stay inside and tend the fire, a day to reread that old book and to bake those cookies you always eat too many of. So the fact that Kingsley had called me out on another one of his half-baked missions was eating at me worse than the bitter air. I knew as I walked that if his little foray didn't pay off I'd be roasting marshmallows in my comfy socks next time he sent his summons.