The Taste of Opium
Date: 2023-03-02 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Science Fiction; Steampunk; Short Stories (Single Author); Fantasy; Gaslamp; Juvenile Nonfiction; Curiosities & Wonders; General
Description: Love may transcend time, but time can be a fickle mistress. Asher is a Victorian bachelor who is an incredible disappointment to his noble father. When news of Howard Carter's discoveries in Egypt hit the papers, Asher is driven to finally find a way to prove his worth and gain his father's as yet unattainable respect. After months of labor, he builds a time machine that can change everything. Except he can't get it working quite right. It keeps returning him to the same evening over and over every time he powers it up, a dinner party his father has negotiated as a means for him to woo the gue

Curse of Christmas

A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories

Contents

Holiday Magic

Thea Atkinson

Illuminated

Christine Pope

Unwelcome Gifts

Margo Bond Collins

Cursed By Christmas

Stephany Wallace

Christmas Spirits

Harper A. Brooks

Soul Kiss

Kat Parrish

A New-Fashioned Holiday

J. A. Cummings

Krampusnaughty

Edeline Wrigh

A Rueful Equinox

Stacey Jaine McIntosh

Blood & Prophecy

Zoey Xolton

Snow White: As White As Snow

S. K. Gregory

Fireworks And Magic

M.T. Finnberg

Ghosts in the Snow

Lily Luchesi

Frolicking in the Snow

Elvira Bathory

A Very Changeling Christmas

Samantha Bell

A Haunting for Christmas

Tricia Schneider

Her Mane Escort

J. A. Belfield

Mistletoe And Demons

D.C. Gambel

Christmas with the Alpha

Alyssa Daring

A Break from the Blood: A Pink Rhinestone Tiara Christmas Story

DJ Shaw

Holiday Magic

An Isabella Hush series story

Thea Atkinson

About Holiday Magic

The holidays should be fun, not deadly.

When Maddox lures Isabella out of the house on December 24 with promise of a job, she relents and gets dressed to work. She doesn't realize it will be at a Christmas party in the Shadow Bazaar until she finds herself in the middle of a group of Kindred on the cusp of their most sacred and savage time of year.

But a special kind of power waits for her within the sliver of portal known as Scourge. She just needs to claim it before the things in the bazaar descend into chaos.

If only she can do that without losing Maddox in the process…

Holiday Magic

It was Christmas Eve and I was wearing an all-black cat suit.

To be fair, everyone was in costume.

I stood in the middle of a large, festively decorated chamber with vaulted ceilings and old stone work that might have been a gallery in the south of France in days past, if the decorations were any indication. Clove-studded oranges hung from smoke-blackened rafters by red and green ribbons. Pine boughs stretched across the sedate mantel of a fireplace that cast a yellowish glow from a crackling hardwood fire.

Dozens of partiers milled about, their laughter an indication of their buoyant moods. Music stoked the atmosphere of celebration. Mulled wine and cider permeated the air with a spicy, warm scent.

Everything, right down to the ribbon tied cinnamon sticks and perfectly positioned vases was exquisite

The party was on the ninth world fringe of the Shadow Bazaar so it was entirely possible that the witch with a long green nose could very well be a real witch. Or she could be a vampire dressed as a witch. Or a fae princess for that matter.

I really had no idea.

And I told myself I didn't want to know. Ignorance can sometimes truly be bliss.

Apparently, Christmas Eve for Kindred didn't mean the same thing as it did for us humans.

It was just as well.

I hated Christmas.

That it was more like Halloween for these unfolks suited me just fine.

Maddox, who had gone to get me what he termed as grog, was dressed as a ghoul complete with green makeup on his ruddy face and fake black contacts that obliterated the greyish green of his eyes. I could see him across the room, hovering near a rose colored crystal punch bowl filled with something that spit out micro-bubbles every few moments before churning in on itself and changing color.

He dipped a ladle in and dumped a liquid ton of the stuff into a pewter goblet, then raised it over the crowds at me with something akin to victory.

Damn good thing. I'd been there for twenty minutes already and was too long sans punch. Ghouls and goblins and the odd witch pressed in on me as they milled about and I felt distinctly exposed as the only human in the room.

Of course the cat suit didn't help.

I pinched at the legs of the thing, testing the flexibility once again of the fabric. I'd ordered it online with one day delivery because when Maddox had invited me to this shin-dig, he'd told me I needed a cat suit.

I assumed I'd be shimmying in and out of some remarkably tight spaces. The reason for it hadn't yet materialized and now I was feeling as though my dignity had taken a cannonball hit.

I lifted my gaze to the punch bowl once again as a witch bumped into me and purred under her breath. I shuffled closer to the fireplace hearth, thinking it was safer to have my back to something solid.

"That's not a costume," said a male voice.

I turned to the voice.

"Excuse me?"

A reedy man with longish teeth lisped out a response. "I said it's not a costume. You can't attend the Savages without a costume."

"Are you daft?" I said, immediately pulling out an indignant show of bravado. "You don't recognize human garb when you see one?" I plucked at the top of the suit as though I'd paid for an authentic costume and ended up with a dud.

He narrowed his pale eyelids to slits.

"No one would come as a human unless they were truly from the ninth world and simply unaware of the consequences of coming here."

"Tell that to the host over there," I said and pointed to where Maddox was weaving his way through the crowds with the goblet of punch held high and hiccupping bubbles into the air.

I tried terribly not to be alarmed by the way this stranger said consequences but he caught something in my expression and his gaze darted to Maddox, who stood taller than anyone in the room except for the giant by the door.

"He shouldn't have invited a human." The man leaned in and inhaled deeply as though he were nosing a fine cab sav.

"Very human. You'll be sorry." He swiped at his nose with his sleeve, and left a trail of blood across his cheek. "He shouldn't have invited you."

He lay one more meaningful, beady-eyed glance at my throat and shambled off to disappear like a mist before he met a throng of witches. They murmured amongst themselves and glanced meaningfully at me.

I didn't need to hear what they were saying to know exactly what they were thinking.

Maddox pressed close and passed me the goblet. I grabbed for it with a haste borne of self-consciousness. I immediately recoiled when I caught a whiff of the smell. Weedy. Like skunk.

I gave the drink a nasty look.

"This is punch?"

"Grog," he said. "The best this side of the Bazaar."

I pushed it back at him.

"Then you drink it."

I caught sight of a server threading her way through the crowds. She held aloft a dozen flutes of red and green liquid over her head. All the drinks bubbled upward between the nubs of horns that jutted from her skull, but these in a sparkling way, not a witch's brew like the grog. Scattered around the stems were piles of roasted chestnuts.

Festive. Absolutely.

"I hate Christmas," I said.

Maddox just blinked at me in a maddeningly subtle movement.

"Too much fake cheer and sycophantic gift swapping. The only thing that makes it worthwhile is the booze."

I plucked a flute of sparkling greenish liquid from the tray as the server passed by.

I sniffed it. No skunky smell. More like peppermint and chocolate. Much better.

Maddox took it from me before I could lift it to my lips and downed it in one draft. He looked at me over the rim. The black contacts shifted as he blinked and I caught a hint of his irises.

"Hey," I complained. "Get your own."

There wasn't a hint of remorse in his face. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, no doubt trying to get accustomed to the military cut that he'd chalked up to whiten it, but the hue made the auburn look more pink than gray.

He set the glass down on the hearth between a pine cone and someone's mug of cider.

"Did I tell you how amazing you look in that outfit?" he said.

His gaze moved from my hair to my hips, lingering too long on the curve of my waist. I had the feeling he was memorizing every inch. I tried not to let it go to my head. No doubt a thousand year old virgin memorized a lot of women's curves out of sheer frustration.

I ran my palm over my backside self-consciously.

"You did say to dress in a cat suit."

"I said cat outfit." He stressed the difference in the words as he lifted one russet eyebrow and tilted the glass at me. "But you won't hear me complain."

"What you said, was that we had a job." I leaned past him to grab at another flute of green stuff as the server swung by again. "I assumed by job I'd need to dress for tight spaces."

After the ordeal with Scottie and Absalom, Maddox had offered me a job in the more clandestine side of his business he called Recollections. I'd not reclaimed one object for him in the weeks I'd been employed. Not that it mattered, I supposed. I kept myself busy enough staring out the window and feeding the cat.

Maddox visited me every day, checking in, making sure some other bogeyman hadn't materialized to make my life Hell. So far, so good.

But no job.

I was beginning to think he had lied about the Recollections business and just wanted to torment me by showing up at odd times. The first time was exactly one day after I'd killed Scottie.

I'd been shaving my legs and only realized I had cut myself in a dozen places when the doorbell sang out no less than five times, scaring the living beJesus out of me.

I'd swiped off the foam and pulled on a robe over my panties and drawers before grabbing the Ruger from under my bed. My heart hammered beneath my ribs as I peered through the peephole.

He looked awash in gloriousness of course, being Maddox and six foot some inches short of giant.

His glance at my filthy robe and blood stains on its cuffs went unremarked when I let him in and trailed my way to the sofa. I flopped down on it, not caring if my robe crept open until he leaned over to fold one side over the other.

Just like a monk, I'd thought, and then I dug beneath the cushions to pull out a key. If he was planning to show up frequently, I didn't feel like hopping off the couch to let him in.

And he did come. Every day. And sometimes, he seemed genuinely shocked at whatever he found within my apartment.

He found me in my sweats, eating chips and cookies from the box, a jug of milk between my legs. When I did manage to get groceries, it was usually peanut butter and ice cream, both of which I scooped out with my fingers.

But for all his visits, there was no job. Just visit upon visit upon visit to the point that I never got off the couch to greet him. Once in a while I managed to offer him a cookie from the box or a glass of milk if I happened to be going for one.

And he spent more time doing dishes because for some reason, the scum of old milk at the bottom of unwashed glasses made him retch.

When he showed up on my doorstep to declare we had a job to do, I'd assumed it was my time finally.

I dusted off a give-a-fuck and made an effort to do what he asked. Thus, the cat suit.

"So exactly what is the job?" I said. "You never told me, and I feel like I should know. Because really, if there isn't one, then this is a colossal waste of my time."

He snorted but disguised it just in time by a cough into his hand.

"Oh please," I said. "I know you think I do nothing but lie around all day."

He looked like he wanted to argue but clamped his mouth closed. I guess you didn't live a thousand years and not learn a thing or two about women--even if you were a virgin.

I looked down into my drink and watched it fizz. It looked entirely too festive for my taste but it was a drink after all.

I didn't get the flute to my lips before he took that one from me as well and downed it. He belched beneath his fist. The smell that wafted toward me was distinctly pepperminty.

"That's the third drink you've taken from me," I complained. "I'm a big girl. I can handle my liquor."

He eyed me and the look he gave indicated he wanted badly to make a joke about my size.

"Don't do it," I said. We both knew I didn't crack five feet, but that just made me, in my opinion, the perfect size for my vocation. "I'm in no mood."

He mumbled something that sounded like no kidding but a sharp glance had him squaring his shoulders innocently.

He heaved a sigh and snagged me by the elbow, pulling me in tight to his side so he could whisper.

"You will be shimmying through some tight spaces tonight," he said against my ear. "So it's actually synchronous that you wore that leotard."

I knew we were in one of his fancy warehouses and that he'd paid a sorcerer to glamor the outside to look like a rundown tenement, but we were close enough to the Shadow Bazaar to mean I wasn't quite in the ninth world anymore. Being on the cusp of human and magic worlds meant anything could happen. Just because he owned the territory that shadowed the portals of multiple worlds did not mean I was safe in it.

I couldn't take safety for granted ever again.

I pulled out of his grip and shoved him toward the overstuffed leather loveseat next to the fireplace.

"It's a cat suit," I said through gritted teeth. "A leotard is see through."

A witch standing nearby snickered and I thought about giving her the finger. I settled for turning my back to her until she eddied back toward her throng of people, presumably to discuss eating children's fingers or something.

"It's not a leotard," I said again, looking up into Maddox's face.

"I'm not sure you're aware just how much that thing shows..."

I held up my hand. "Don't. Just don't." I scanned the crowd again, looking for a server. "You have more of that green drink?"

He shook his head. "Not now. Cactus wine spritz is wasted on the human palate."

I looked past him at all the ghouls and witches and mummies who lifted delicate glasses to their lips and sighed.

"Listen, if you're not going to let me drink after you pulled me out of my cozy home on Christmas Eve to attend a Christmas party..."

"It's not a Christmas party."

"You have a damned tree."

I jabbed my finger in the direction of the nine foot balsam fir that stood sentry in the library doorway decked in lit candles and something that looked like purple kernels of popcorn threaded together. Several Kindred stood around it, exchanging small boxes. Beyond, was a small office, locked up tight lest anyone decide to go snooping.

"It's huge. Where did you get it? Canada's Great North?"

I wasn't sure why the sight bothered me so much. I'd felt very little in the way of emotion for the last few weeks. Something gobbed up in my throat and I had to clear it with a swallow of something. I reached for his goblet of grog and took a swallow.

It tasted of licorice. Not what I expected at all.

I looked up at the man who, even dressed as a ghoul, did strange little things to my belly.

"Well," I said.

"Eve aux Savages is a special night for us, Kitten," he said. "As you can see, a good deal of my tenants are here. But if you look close, you'll see others as well."

He swept aside a crimson velvet cushion so I could sit down and then he scooched in next to me so close I could smell wood smoke and whiskey. His warmth swaddled me, almost rivalling that of the fireplace.

"Do you see?" he said against my ear.

His breath shivered down my neck and I wondered why I wasn't enjoying it. I should have. Another Isabella would be easing her eyelids closed to enjoy it.

"Isabella?"

"What? Oh yes. Yes, I do see." I didn't, not at first, because I was too busy trying to conjure images that might move something in my chest and all but gave up because I couldn't keep a single thought process running long enough to care.

Even so, I dutifully scanned the room, searching for evidence of his comments.

There were indeed obvious Shadow Bazaar tenants. I recognized the ghostlike man who had split into several iterations of himself when a fae assassin had attacked the bazaar. I recognized the old woman who sold eyeballs and bones.

But there was a cluster of six men and women who had an unnatural sheen to their skin. Black hair shone so lustrously that it reflected the lights.

"Is that an aura I see?" I said, noting the way the air around them seemed outlined in gray.

"Very good, Kitten."

I wasn't sure why that little comment warmed my chest but it did. And these new-to-me Kindred definitely had me intrigued. Enough that it lifted what felt like a wet wool blanket from my shoulders that had been there for weeks.

Maybe I did need to go to work. Maybe that was what was wrong.

"This party isn't just for my tenants," he said. "There's another purpose for the party, especially tonight. Those Kindred you see are a mix of incubus and angel. They're called Scourge."

"Scourge," I tried the word out on my tongue. "And what kind of power does a scourge have?" I was already tracing their hands and clothes with my eyes, seeking for pockets, hidden weapons, anything that might mean they were a target for this so-called job.

"Not a scourge," he said. "Just Scourge. There are only three whips of Scourge in all the worlds."

He hailed over a server and flicked his hand in the direction of the punch bowl again. I watched her back track and lift one of the goblets from the table.

I realized he'd done it so she wouldn't hear what he wanted to say.

"They travel together. They rarely break away from their whip when they're in public. But if you can get one alone and slip through its aura, it's like getting a wish from a genie."

That was even better than interesting.

I lifted my gaze to the whip.

"I'm guessing you want me to wish for something specific?"

He grinned and tapped his nose.

"So what does getting one alone have to do with shimmying through tight spaces."

The server returned with a goblet and passed it to him. She stood there for a long moment, watching him. I noted she had taken to tapping her bare foot. She was quite beautiful with long silver hair that trailed in braids down an elegant neck. Unlike the other servers, she wore a sort of Roman gown in burnished green, and in some places of the skin that showed, I could swear she was tattooed.

She looked very human, actually, and it made me remember what the vampire had said to me about there being consequences for a human here tonight.

I thought I should warn her and then the concern just melted away like every other thing that rose and bared teeth at me over the last few weeks.

Maddox finally took the goblet from her, and after sending an appreciative glance down her bare arms, offered it to me.

The weedy stink was no better now than before.

"No thanks," I said and stood up to place it back on her tray.

Her eye flicked to me for only one second, but something in the depths of her gaze made my neck crawl. She hated me. I could see it in that one second glance.

So. Not human after all.

Not that I cared. But I did notice she covered her feelings for me well even if to do so she turned her gaze to Maddox. She drank him in. I watched her watching him in those brief seconds and the tattoos that I suspected seemed to shift on her skin. They untwisted from the knots they were in and reformed into different shapes.

"Those are terribly filthy thoughts," she said to him.

He blushed and dropped his gaze to her feet. I followed his gaze, almost interested and almost done already with the night until I noticed they were bare.

I thought one of the tattoos moved beneath her hem. It caught my attention for all of three seconds, and I even nudged Maddox to see if he saw it too, but he wouldn't look at me.

Therein ended the interest.

"I want one of those green drinks," I blurted out because all I could think was that I could be home on my sofa, in my robe, eating a nice chunk of peanut butter from the jar.

Yes. I definitely needed that drink.

She didn't look my way, merely waited for Maddox to say something.

I waved my hand in front of her face.

"I'd like a drink."

Her eyes snapped to mine and she pursed her lips.

"You have a drink."

"The green stuff, not that licorice grog."

She sent one last look in Maddox's direction before sighing and threading her way back through the crowds.

"You shouldn't drink the cactus wine," Maddox said, trailing the woman with his eyes.

"You shouldn't be undressing that woman with your eyes," I said. "She might decide to make it easier for you."

His eyebrows squirreled together.

"You think I--"

"I do, yes," I said. "I very much do. But you've taken a vow, remember."

"A man doesn't forget a vow like that," he said.

His gaze dropped to my mouth and I swiped across it in case I had a grog mustache.

"So is this shindig dangerous? Someone told me you shouldn't have invited a human," I said to him. "That there would be consequences."

He gave me his grudging attention.

"Savages is a Kindred celebration yes, but I've taken the precautions."

His gaze lighted on my throat. "You're safe with me, Isabella. You should know that."

I sniffed. "You're talking to a woman who killed her ex-lover. A gal like that doesn't need a knight in shining armor."

I rubbed my fingernails against my chest, but saying the words made my throat go tight. I felt as though I couldn't breathe.

"I've seen what that did to you, Kitten," he murmured and the tightness in my throat went to a clump.

I had to get away. Stat.

And if I couldn't physically get away, I'd resort to the next best thing.

"So what do you want me to steal from Scourge?"

I stepped back enough that I didn't feel so swaddled by him. It was far safer in the press of Kindred milling about me than to stay too close to him in that moment.

"And what sorts of precautions did you have to take?"

The ghoul makeup around his eyes crinkled and creased as he smiled. "I invited Scourge."

"Is this some sort of Christmas puzzle I'm meant to work out? Because it's not a very good one. And I don't have the patience for it."

"Savages isn't Christmas for Kindred, Kitten. It's the night our basest evils and desires are celebrated. At what you humans call the witching hour, those baser instincts can overtake us."

I lifted a brow. "Seriously. You asked me here in the middle of a bastion of dangerous creatures--"

"Kindred. We're Kindred."

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"So what you're saying is it's Christmas Eve and I'm about to be Kindred kibble."

"I thought you hated Christmas."

"I don't want to die on Christmas and certainly not at a Christmas party for Pete's sake."

My voice rose in pitch. Several Kindred cast a look my way.

"I told you, you're safe with me. Most of the worst offenders will find a way back to their homes to wreak their havoc because that's where their darkest dreams live."

"Most is not all," I said.

His bottom lip pooched into is top to indicate he knew it was true.

He wrapped his arm over my shoulder. The weight was heavy and warm.

"Besides, it's not always the most frightening things that overtake us. There's a special magic in Savage. It's unpredictable, yes, but it often pulls out only the thing we've been struggling to the most with throughout the year. It gives that desire reign for that one hour so that we might let it go. For a vegan vampire, it might be the desire to eat pizza with garlic. For a tooth fairy it might be to yank a tooth from a sleeping child's mouth."

I ignored the thought that he believed tearing a living tooth from a child wasn't frightening

"Vegan vampire?" I snorted.

He shrugged. "There are a few."

"So," I said, sighing. In for a penny, I supposed. The quicker I got this done, the quicker I could be in my bathrobe. "You say it will happen at the witching hour?"

"Yes. The hour after midnight." He checked his watch. "In about ten minutes."

He turned me to face Scourge and I felt his breath over my hair as he leaned down to whisper from behind me.

"Scourge has one small space in their collective aura. It's narrow as the whisker on a cat but it's there. Do you see it?"

His arms crossed over my chest and his palms landed on my shoulder as he pulled me close. My heart wheezed out a lazy skip. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be held. I caught my breath before it could exit in a sob. I did not want him to see me cry. I didn't even want to cry. I wanted to feel that deadness I'd enjoyed these last weeks. It was safer. It sopped up all the emotion like a sea sponge.

So I peered at the group with slitted eyes, digging deep for some sort of focus. There did seem to be a sliver of light separating each of their auras.

"I'm small but I can't fit in there."

"You'd be surprised. When they're together like that, their energies create a portal that doesn't exist when they are alone. It can expand."

I pulled my shoulders back. I'd been in tight spaces before both metaphorical and physical, but not magical. If this was some sort of portal I wanted nothing to do with it. Besides. It must be special.

"What's to stop anyone else from doing the same thing as me?"

"Therein lies the precise reason you're here, Isabella."

"And that is?"

"You're human."

"Yeah. Painfully so in a room that's about to go all ballistic with dark desires."

I shuddered beneath his embrace but I wasn't entirely sure it was from nerves. It felt like adrenaline. That soaking of possibility and anxiety all at the same time. Something in me perked up its head and peered over the arid landscape I'd hunkered down in.

"So a human is the only kindred able to do this?" I said.

I felt him shake his head.

"There's only one time when that portal is ripe."

"The witching hour."

"The witching hour on eve aux savages. Yes." His hand slipped from my shoulder to wander down my arm, brushing it almost absently. I thought I felt his embrace tighten just a bit.

"Most Kindred won't be in any sort of state to take advantage because they'll be under the spell of savages."

"But I won't."

"Exactly."

"And what is it you want from me once I do this slipping in? What am I looking for?"

I heard indulgence in his tone. "What do you need?"

Need? I needed a lot of things. Didn't everyone?

"If I'm going to be kibble, then I'd say safety," I muttered. "But I'm guessing you had something else in mind since it would be a waste of time to have me use this special loophole just to use it to stay safe from a bunch of Kindred with their knickers in knots."

He chuckled. "Ever the mercenary mind."

"And why not? Everyone wants something. Charity is an illusion. Even Christmas is selfish down to its core."

I caught sight of the server across the room. She had stopped offering drinks and was shaking out her hands. In fact, anyone holding a drink or carrying on conversation had put it down or gone quiet. All over the room, some sort of electric tension began to transform postures from casual and gay to rigid and expectant.

I swallowed down my own tension.

"Maddox," I said, testing. "What will happen to you during savages?"

"Nothing," he said. "Apparently, I'm immune. Not in all my years have I had a savage moment overtake me."

"Maybe you just haven't wanted something bad enough to suppress it."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He spun me around and laid his hands on my shoulders. The way he looked at me made my stomach flip over. His expression was filled with what I would have called regret. I felt sorry for him. His face held a look I'd been seeing too often in my mirror.

"I've lived a long time, Isabella. I've wanted things over the centuries, sure, but by the time I was eighteen, I'd already given reign to the worst there is inside me. There's nothing left that savage could give me or take from me."

Something caught his eye over my shoulder as he spoke. Confusion stamped wrinkles into his brow for a moment, and then, something like recognition overtook it. If his hands were free, he'd have snapped his fingers.

"What is it?" I said, meaning who but in this place, I wasn't sure the questions weren't the same anyway.

He was about to answer, but then a tiny man standing beside me suddenly shot up like a weed to a sizeable height. His sudden transformation meant he tossed me aside abruptly so that I pin wheeled into Maddox's chest. His arms closed around me again, tighter than before. Almost uncomfortably so.

I planted my palms and pushed as I peered up to see the giant towering above me by several feet. Even Maddox looked small next to him.

When the giant took a swing at the wooden beams that were no doubt as supporting as they were decorous, I realized that the savages had begun.

It was time to move.

Now.

"It's on, is it?" I said.

I was addressing Maddox even if I wasn't looking straight at him. I needed more information. Should I run for Scourge? Casually saunter over? Was it too late for any of that and I needed to flatten myself to the floor and scuttle like a bug to a safe space.

His embrace had grown more desperate. I felt smothered in it. I'd never get the running chance I wanted if he didn't let me go.

"What the hell, Maddox," I said and looked up into his face. "Tell me what the hell to do. It's started and I--"

The rest of it died on my lips as I saw his face.

Bald lust. Barely controlled. I could see it in the twist of his mouth.

The next instant my mind flooded with moving images that would put an Internet porn site to shame.

"Sweet Jesus," I blurted out.

He blinked. Moved a hand over his eyes. From behind his palm I heard his words.

"Go. Now. They won't stop you."

And then he pushed me. Hard enough that I lost my balance, and as I sprawled, almost falling over my feet, I realized every Kindred had lost themselves to the savages.

I could see something from the corner of my eye coming at me. It leapt and I dodged, but it was sidelined by Maddox, and there was a goosh of air as something struck the floor. I presumed it was Maddox getting the wind knocked out of him by some unearthly Kindred.

Mid turn, I saw that what had flung itself at me, a hairy, snarling wolf, was now scrabbling to its feet after being knocked sideways.

Maddox held the beast's jaws closed.

Shrieks lit through the air. I saw the reedy looking vampire from earlier biting down into the throat of what I assumed was a pixie. The Kindred I'd seen exchanging gift boxes beside the tree, pulled out what looked like wigs until I realized the scalps were still intact.

The room was chaos.

And I was on my own.

I was left spinning in place, trying to decide where to run or who to strike out at.

Then I remembered what I was supposed to do. Scourge. I had to get there.

The question was, if every Kindred had succumbed to their basest desires, what would those desires be for them? Were they immune? Or did Scourge have a collective, dark desire?

The answer would have to be moot. I needed to get there if I was to stay safe.

I ducked out of the way of a flying something or other and scanned the last place I'd seen Scourge. They were still there.

Strangely, they did not look different. They showed no outward reaction to the savages. The only difference was that the thin stream of light between them looked broader. Brighter.

And there was no one in the way between me and them.

I just had to run.

I was good at running.

I put my head down. I aimed for that light. And I started to move.

Then I saw her. The server. She had shed her gown and stood naked in the puddle of light as all around her kindred fell back from her step. Her tattoos ran from one long line of her neck all the way to her toes. They pulsed with light. Her heavy breasts swayed rhythmically with each step. I watched her, mesmerized, realizing she saw nothing and no one.

Except for Maddox.

Maddox.

I flung a look over my shoulder. He no longer battled the dire wolf. It lay on its back, feet in the air, showing its belly. Submitting.

Maddox stood over him with his chest inflated, his shoulders squared in victory. He looked like an old world Viking. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was breathing heavily. I could see his biceps move like puppies beneath his shirt.

I looked from him to the server. She ran a finger over her chest, trailing the nails along her skin as she advanced on him.

I knew exactly what she had in mind.

And I knew in his state, Maddox would succumb. Right here. In the middle of the savages, he was about to lose his virginity.

"Shit," I said. I took one last look at Scourge. He wanted me to take up that gauntlet. It was right there. I could totally do it.

But Maddox would never forgive himself if he broke his vow. I knew it. I ached for the man he might end up being if he did.

Besides. If the man was going to break that vow, it wasn't going to be with her. Not if I could help it.

I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances.

I charged him. The momentum caught him in the legs and took him down out of sheer surprise. I landed on top of him. Somewhere behind me a crashing sound made the lights flicker.

His instinct and centuries of training made his reactions immediate. He flipped to his back with surprising fluidity and ease, since I was a dead weight on top of him. I went from sprawled over his mid-section to straddling him for one victorious second, my hands planted on the floor at either side of his head.

Quick as a synapse firing, his hands flew toward me.

I thought he might strike me, and braced for impact, cringing in reflex, but his palms met the sides of my face instead. His touch was warm and gentle. Fingers spidered up into my hair.

One of his contacts had fallen out and what peered back at me were one scalding blue and one unnerving black. But recognition swam across his expression. I let go my relief in a soft exhale.

"Kitten," he said.

I started to grin and say something ridiculous like, gotcha, but in the next heartbeat, he pulled me toward him and I was so surprised I didn't have time to react.

His lips met mine even while my lips were open to speak. It didn't seem to matter. His mouth roamed mine as though they were on a leisurely journey through a European countryside. I tasted something delicious on his breath. Peppermint and something else. Something I'd never tasted before. I didn't have the words or description for it but it was amazing.

And the kiss was amazing. My throat ached with the pleasure of it, and when it became more commanding and demanding, I returned it with the same fervor. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed a man's touch I didn't think about where we were or what was happening behind me or all around me.

Not even when his hands slipped from my face to my throat, where they whispered across the skin in gentle strokes. Not even when they brushed my shoulder or somehow found the hidden zipper behind my back.

I only truly realized the magnitude of what was happening when his fingers slipped beneath the zipper at the bottom of the suit's waist and found the string of my thong. He made a sound against my mouth of lust-filled surprise and while I'd like to say that was the thing that clued me in finally, it wasn't.

At the same moment his fingers kneaded the curve of my backside, I felt a cold touch of power against the back of my neck.

And then I felt a cold touch.

I knew it couldn't be Maddox. Both of his hands were shoved beneath the pants of my cat suit. He was lost to his desires the way everyone else around us was.

That meant it had to be someone else.

And that was what slapped the ice water into my veins. I was sprawled awkwardly across Maddox's body. I was damn lucky someone hadn't already taken my head off or sunk their teeth into the back of my neck.

Of course, I no sooner thought it then the inevitable happened.

My scalp burned as someone yanked my head backward. I was powerless against the pain of it and followed the arc of movement with my chest.

"He's mine," said a voice.

I cringed into her hand as I peered up into the face of the server. I'd forgotten her for a moment. Her beautiful features were twisted in jealousy. Maddox tried to pull me against him again, and she yanked on my hair.

I cried out with the pain.

"Mine," she said and shook my head.

"Yours, yours," I said. Anything to get her to let go.

I threw up my hands in surrender but the only thing holding me upright was an awkward position against Maddox's hips and her grip on my hair. It hurt more to show her my hands. I grabbed for her, more to deflect the pain than anything else.

Because she was crouched over, my hands landed on her thighs. Her breasts brushed against my face.

Maddox was already pushing himself to his knees. His arms were around my waist. I knew in that instant he planned to pull me with him to his feet.

If he did that, my head was gonna hurt hella bad.

I opened my mouth against a swell of flesh and I bit down. Hard.

She yodeled out her agony and she let go my hair. The relief was instantaneous.

"Mine," said Maddox and then I did get pulled along with him but not to my feet.

I sailed up over his shoulder like a Neanderthal claiming a mate and I thought, really? This is your darkest desire?

I bobbed as he took a step and then weaved out of the way of something. I lifted my head to scan the room. What had begun as chaos had sifted out into several pockets of more ordered chaos. Fights had broken out and blood was running in gunnels along the grout. I thought I caught sight of Pan in a corner tenderly stroking a nymph's brow and pulling her clothes back over her body, covering her nudity.

The server was holding onto her breast and glaring at me. Past her, I could see Scourge watching with interest at the goings on around them. One of them caught my eye. It inclined its head at me and its black hair swept out as though a breeze had taken it.

I turned my attention to the server.

"Help me," I said. Maybe if she thought I was a victim in all this, she'd realize I wasn't out to steal what she obviously thought was hers.

Why she thought so, I'd deal with later.

Maddox had begun to stride through a press of wolf shifters playing like pups and I had the feeling that somewhere in his addled brain, he remembered the library had a back room.

I couldn't hold my head up long. I struggled to be released but Maddox put his hand against my back.

"Soon, kitten," he said as though he either didn't see the chaos around him, the woman who had taken to pulling on my arm, or just didn't care.

"Maddox, stop."

He responded by tugging on my legs as means to counteract the pulling the server was now doing on my arms.

I was going to fall and with both of them holding onto my arms and legs, it was not going to be pretty.

"Stop," I said. "Just stop it."

Too late, the server wrenched me sideways and I did spill. I fell onto my side next to one of the frolicking werewolves. Fur obliterated my vision for a moment and then the beast danced out of the way and I could see the server clinging to Maddox's arm.

He looked stupefied as she cozied up next to him.

"You owe me, warrior," she said.

He took her in, his glance running down her naked arms and legs. Something shifted in his face. Maybe the savages had left him; maybe he just found a way to break through it. I pushed onto my elbows, straining to hear through the howling that started up. I was paralyzed here, afraid to make a move and draw attention to myself.

The howling turned to low key whimpers. I caught a few snippets of their conversation.

"I know you," he said.

She ran the backs of her fingers along his jaw. "You do."

The muscles in his throat went rigid. I thought he might resist her, but then the outline of her tattoos began to glow. "The mothmen. They ride my blood, remember?"

A glaze went over his face. "I do remember."

"You want me, I know," she said. "I smell it on your breath. The wine confesses its secrets with the fragrance."

I watched as he dropped his gaze to her breasts. "Kyrie," he said. I remember."

There was an intimacy in the words that made my heart squeeze. He knew her. I'd been nothing during those moments of passion but a substitute for some old flame that he'd stoked for God knew how many generations. I ached with the knowledge and the humiliation that I'd returned that kiss just as passionately.

But it was still Maddox. And he'd made a vow. And I knew, just knew, in the next moment what I'd see would be him touching her finally, the savages taking him again because this was his darkest need.

Her.

She was it.

I needed to get him out of there.

Out of there.

That was it.

I almost laughed out loud as I realized the answer. Scourge. This was the one night in all the year that he might give into his need and the one night when the antidote for it was within his grasp.

His attention was on the server and her nude flesh, the markings that made Hansel and Gretel tracks on her skin. She had taken to circling him, her palm caressing him over his clothes. Each touch wrapped his posture in further defeat. Each moment of defeat transformed into hard lust.

I rolled onto my hands and knees and pushed myself into a runner's lunge. If I could get enough thrust and momentum, I might be able to take him down once again.

Scourge had somehow eddied closer to me. There was no one in the way.

Except Maddox.

Coincidence or synchronicity, I didn't care. I waited for her to move to his side again, and then I lunged.

I expected the impact to be like shouldering a mountain but it wasn't.

He didn't go down like the first time. This time he skidded backwards. I pushed as hard as I could.

Scourge was there. Almost as though it was waiting for him. The sliver of light pulsed into a white burst and it expanded to the size of a door.

I laughed out loud.

Maddox pin wheeled toward it.

Except the look on his face as he realized I had pushed him, as he caught my eye, wasn't surprise or relief.

It was panic.

I immediately second guessed myself. I grabbed his wrist just before he fell into the portal.

Scourge directed a strange look at me. The portal began to close. The light started to seep into the shadows of their aura.

I'd made a mistake. I should have let him go. I knew it when he looked at me.

"Go," he said. "It's yours."

"I can't," I said. How could I explain in a millisecond that I couldn't leave him here to commit an act he'd spent hundreds of years avoiding. Even if it meant I got something I needed, it wouldn't be worth it to see him betray his vow.

In the time it took me to refuse, the server pushed me aside. I lost my grip on Maddox. I staggered and watched helpless as the woman bolted for him. I held my breath.

Then she did the unthinkable. She ran straight into the portal and it closed around her. The shadows of Scourge's aura swallowed up the light until it was nothing but a sliver again.

I swallowed, not sure if I should be relieved or upset.

Maddox took the choice from me. Instead of returning to normal, he lunged for me.

"Come then, Kitten. We have a few good moments left."

I backed away, butted up into someone's back. I didn't bother to turn around to see what or who it was.

It didn't matter what else was happening around me. Maddox might not let anyone hurt me, but he wasn't going to let me go Scott free either.

I tittered out a nervous laugh at the word Scott free. It was a Freudian mental slip because it was true. I was Scottie free. I was Scottie free because I'd killed him. I could tell myself it was self-defence, PTSD, anything I wanted, but the truth was, I'd killed the man who had held me enthralled for a decade, who I'd loved at one time, who in his way had loved me.

I watched Maddox close the distance between us and I knew in that second it wouldn't just be Maddox who would regret this.

It would be me.

I wanted him, yes. I knew I did. I'd be a liar if I tried to convince myself otherwise. But I wanted him voluntarily, and that wasn't ever going to happen. And this involuntary act would make me hate him the way I'd hated Scottie.

"Please, don't, Maddox," I said. "You don't want this."

"But I do, Kitten," he said. "I've wanted it since I saw you covered in pepper spray in that alley."

I pushed through the shoulders of two nymphs trying to ply a werewolf into play.

"I stank," I said. "I was a mess. You don't mean that. It's just the savages."

He shook his head. I noted the other contact had fallen out, and the eyes were all Maddox's now. They pinned to my mouth.

"You smelled of promise and creamy butter and the wildflowers that grow in my homeland."

It was calm, reasonable, so much like Maddox that I almost gave in. But one look around me reminded why I couldn't.

I pulled one of the nymphs in front of me as a shield but I could see past her to Maddox's face. He was so tall, he towered over both of us.

He was closer now, close enough to reach out and grab me if he wanted. I was surprised he didn't. His voice was soothing and calm, mesmerizing almost.

"I won't hurt you, Isabella. I would never hurt you, but you want me too, don't you? I felt it when I healed you. It danced around my brain for days."

"No," I lied because it wouldn't be helpful to tell the truth. Not now.

"You can't run, Isabella. Where would you go?"

He lifted his arms to indicate the room. We were close to the Shadow Bazaar, not quite in the ninth world.

Where indeed?

One place in this whole building might provide the sanctuary I needed until all of this passed, and it was behind me. All I had to do was turn tail and run like the wind.

"She spiked the cactus wine, Maddox," I said. "That's all. You're drugged."

"Not true," he said. "The wine was spiked but I only had three drafts. I'm a big man."

I snorted as I back-stepped, but the grin on his face told me it was a mistake to find humor in the comment. He was deadly serious.

He lifted the nymph from her spot in front of me, and I could see the dogged look on his face all the clearer. This was my chance, while he was busy.

I spun on my feet and hurtled past a clutch of witches, pushed through them, and wrestled my way between a couple of trolls. At least I thought they were trolls. I didn't have time to ask.

Maddox called out to me but I didn't respond. I just kept running, dodging, running again until the library door was in sight.

I flung myself past the couple who had exchanged wigs and were now wearing them, the human skin hanging in their face. I pulled at the tree as I went, yanking it sideways.

It came down with a whoosh behind me. Water spilled out over the floor and I almost slipped.

But the office was in sight now. I was almost there.

Things change on a dime, so they say. I'd seen it happen myself dozens of times. One moment, you're sure of something, the next a happenstance throws a wrench into the gears of destiny and nothing works out the way you expect.

I expected to get to the door. I expected it to be unlocked. I expected to bar it from the inside and wait it out.

The vampire from the first few moments had other plans.

He swooped in from nowhere and grabbed me by the waist. I only knew him by his clothing because the face was horrific. Feral. But it was him, alright. His mouth gaped wide as he came at me. Those eyes of his were black and pupil-filled. I felt faint and willing all at the same time.

Without thinking, I leaned my head to the side, stretching the muscles so that my neck was arched toward him. I felt a pressure against my chest.

And then I felt nothing.

The vampire was gone. I looked down to find him at my feet, pinned beneath Maddox's forearm. He fought against the hold and Maddox kept him pinned. There was no violence in the defense, only committed determination.

The vampire spat and twisted, trying to capture Maddox's full gaze.

"Don't try that on me," Maddox said. "You'll end up looking for your body while your head rolls on the floor."

I believed it. So, apparently did the vampire. He stilled immediately but he didn't relent.

"She is human," he said. "She is willing. You saw her. She wanted my bite."

Maddox shook him by the collar.

"You compelled her. That's not willing."

I almost snorted, and might have if I hadn't just almost let a vampire make a Christmas Eve snack of me.

"She's not willing," Maddox repeated, and this time he said it slowly, as though he were just realizing what he was saying.

He sighed. I watched as his shoulders sagged and he pushed away from the vampire. He stood, brushing off his clothes and faced me. His face looked pained.

"Isabella," he said. "I'm sorry."

I peered at him, studying everything from his posture to his eyes.

"It's fine," he said. "I'm fine."

He reached behind him to grab the door knob. "Will you come with me?"

I balked but then caught sight of the vampire again, and the partiers wearing human scalps for wigs and I nodded. It would be safer in there at least then out here.

The office reminded me of the one in the Shadow Bazaar. It was three-storied, had shelves of books, and a great fireplace that roared to life as he entered.

"Is this--?"

"Yes," he said. We've crossed into the Bazaar."

I smiled at the pleasant surprise. "That was painless."

Each time I'd entered a portal to the bazaar, it had been discomfiting. This time it had been nothing at all. I ran my hand along the shelves of books as I followed him in, and when he paused in front of the fireplace, he bade me sit in one of the plush leather chairs.

I took the one I'd sat in the first time I'd been there. He fidgeted as he stood next to the mantel and fiddled with a box on it.

"Who was she?" I said, thinking this was as good a time as any to get an explanation. He wasn't ready to pounce on me at any rate.

He threw his head back and sighed. "I didn't know her at first. She looked familiar, but it's been a very long time since I've seen her. I assumed she was dead."

"She obviously remembered you," I said. "She honed in on you pretty fast."

He put down the box and ran his hand down his chin, as though stroking a beard that wasn't there.

"She's from my past. Someone I wanted very badly for a short time."

"And you still want her?" I guessed. I'd been a convenient substitute for his desires, apparently.

"Is that what you think?" He closed the distance between us and crouched beside the chair. He ran his fingers over my forearm, a touch that was both intimate and casual. "She's a sorceress from my world. A scopari."

"Scopari," I tried out the word on my tongue.

"A special kind of prostitute."

He looked like he wanted to explain, but I held my hand up.

"I don't need to know more. I'm quite fine with what I know now."

He grinned. "Fair enough."

He picked up my hand and held it in his. "Thanks," he said.

I couldn't look at him. "It was nothing. I just knew you wouldn't want to break your vow."

"It was everything. I mean it."

His free hand cupped my chin and he turned me to face him.

"I would never have succumbed to her," he said. "It wasn't the wine or her magic that gave savages the power to move me. It was you. All along. You're the one I want. You're my buried desire."

He held my gaze, unafraid, it seemed to let me see the conviction on his features. My own face must have shown all the confusion and fear I felt burning in my chest. That he wanted me. Me. A man dedicated to his vows of chastity. It was exhilarating and painful to hear all at the same time.

"So what happens now?" I said. I didn't want to admit that I wanted him too. That would be cruel. It might be best to deny it out loud, but I didn't think I had the conviction at the moment that the sincerity would need.

He shrugged. "We keep going. You keep going."

"About that," I said. "I failed at the job you gave me. Kyrie no doubt has whatever it was you wanted."

He pulled a big log off the wood pile and sat on it.

"I doubt it," he said. "I only wanted one thing."

"What do you think was in there?"

"I know what was in there."

"Then why send me? Why not just go get it yourself? You wouldn't have been susceptible to the savages under normal circumstances. You didn't need me"

"Because I didn't want it for myself," he said. "I wanted it for you, Isabella You need it."

He put his hand on my knee. I tried not to enjoy how warm it felt.

"You've not been yourself since things went down with your ex."

"What do you mean, I haven't been myself. I've been fine."

"Really?" he said. "I know you're not a great housekeeper and you often leave socks on the floor--"

"For the cat. She loves them."

"Sure," he said. "The feisty feline does enjoy tormenting the cotton of out them, but that's not what I was saying."

"Then what?"

He sighed. "It's been painful seeing you hurt. I can't take it away from you and that bothers me."

"I told you--"

"Yeah, you're fine. But you don't get dressed. You don't eat. You've lost weight."

I waved my hand and he plucked it from the air and held it against his chest.

"You're not you. You need to find peace. I wanted them to give it to you. It's Christmas. I wanted to give you something, that's all."

I gawked at him.

"So you're saying it wasn't a job. You were giving me a gift?"

He shrugged, suddenly shy-seeming.

"It's all I could think of. Scourge knows what you need. Scourge grants it. No questions asked."

I thought of the tenderness in his kiss, the longing in it, and the knowledge that he cared for me even if he couldn't break his vow.

This was all he could give me and I knew right then, I didn't need anything more.

"I hate Christmas," I said.

He grinned. "Then it's a damn good thing that's not what this is."

The End

Did you enjoy getting whisked away by this story? You can also pick up the first three books in the Isabella Hush series with one click and drop down into Isabella's skin for a much longer ride. Remember to join the newsletter for exclusive bonus scenes from the series.

About the Author

I'm a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling Author. I'm also Canadian and I slip up on my spelling a lot because we Canucks spell some things differently than Americans or Brits.

I used to have a black lab at my feet when I wrote, warming up the calves. She was a good girl. I miss her. Now it's just a cuppa tea keeping this old gal warm. Maybe someday though...

I love to read, and I love to get inside a character's skin. Writing stories is like reading for me, just much slower.

I call my little ditties, fiction to the left of mainstream because they never truly match up with one perfect genre. Still want a label? I got em. Urban Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, LitFic with dark themes, grimdark dystopian...But I really just write what I like, and you'll find all of those plus a few more mashed up in there somewhere.

So what will you find in my stories? Wounded people, really. Each one of them struggling their way to the light and peace and self acceptance.

If you like that, you might like my books. It might be easier for you to hear that if you enjoy authors like Dannika Dark or Patricia Briggs, that slipping into the skin of one of my characters might be something worth trying.

But I'll leave that to you.

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Illuminated

Christine Pope

About Illuminated

A woman left alone in a dead town…a handsome stranger who isn’t exactly what he seems. For Sarah Wright, this will be a Christmas she’ll never forget.

Chapter 1

Cloudcroft, New Mexico, two and a half months after the Dying

Sarah Wright cast a wary eye at the sky, sure she had seen a shadow pass overhead. Of course there was nothing to see, just as there had been absolutely nothing every other time she’d stopped in her tracks, sure that the shadow of a hawk or an eagle would turn out to be something much worse.

Maybe someday she’d stop startling at every little thing. Maybe.

Still, it didn’t hurt to pause here on the top step before the entrance to the Lodge resort, to let her gaze sweep the area once more. Just in case.

The fountains that had once danced in the pond at the entrance to the historic hotel were now still, and algae had begun to bloom in the water — until the first few hard freezes came along, followed by a few half-hearted storms, ones that had brought flurries of snow, not enough to stick. It was strange; usually by the middle of December, Cloudcroft would have experienced at least a couple of decent snowstorms. But this year the snow came and went, although the cold was severe enough that the algae in the pond was long gone.

Sarah reflected that she should be gone, too, unless she wanted to be trapped up here all winter. The mild weather couldn’t hold forever. Problem was, she had no idea where she was supposed to go.

Frowning, she let herself into the building and went past the reception desk, past the portrait of Rebecca, the hotel’s resident ghost. The place was supposed to be haunted, but Sarah had never seen hide nor hair of Rebecca in all the time she’d spent here. Ghost stories were good for bringing in tourists, but if Rebecca really existed, you’d think she would have made an appearance by now. Even ghosts might want some company after the end of the world.

The air was chilly — it got cold up here at the top of the world, at nearly 8,500 feet — but Sarah knew she’d only fetch another shawl or sweater if she became too uncomfortable. Luckily for her, the hotel had a good supply of wood on hand pretty much year-round, just because the tourists from the flatlands liked to see a fire going at the lodge, even at the height of summer. Even so, she was trying to be careful with the firewood, since she’d have to make it last a good long time.

Tourists. Once upon a time, they’d driven her nuts, even though it was the tourist trade that put a roof over her head. Clogging the narrow road up here to Cloudcroft, jamming her favorite restaurants, idling along while they gawked at all the sights. It had been a relief to go down the hill to Alamogordo or Tularosa, someplace where the streets were a little wider and you didn’t feel as if outsiders were pressing in from all sides. Now, though, Sarah would have welcomed the most obnoxious Escalade-driving Texan. At least that way, she would have known she wasn’t alone in the world.

She passed through the large lobby with its overstuffed furniture and enormous fireplace, and went out to the gazebo. In happier days, people used to get married here. Now, though, the garden and the gazebo were empty, the wind rustling in the pines, the neglected grass bare and yellow. A month ago, fallen leaves had coated the lawn, but they’d mostly blown away by this point. Those leaves had told her that time was running out. Snow came early at this elevation, most years. She had long overstayed her welcome, and knew it. One day a real blizzard would come along, and she’d be snowed in, trapped because she’d been too scared to go and see what had actually happened to the world outside Cloudcroft.

There really wasn’t anything keeping her here. Lord knows the town was littered with abandoned vehicles whose former owners wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon. All she had to do was find one with the keys still in it, pack up her things, drive down the mountain, and…

…and what? As far as she could tell, the whole world was dead. No electricity. Nothing on the TV or radio. Not even anything on the ham radio setup her neighbor Kyle was once so proud of, and which still occupied the cramped spare bedroom of his small house. Thank God he’d showed her how to use it, back when she was a little girl and her father needed someone to babysit her. Kyle’s grandkids were all in Abilene, so he was only too happy to spend time with Sarah, patiently explaining how the radio setup worked. She’d been fascinated, had never forgotten those lessons.

Which was why she knew no one was out there broadcasting. Or at least, they weren’t broadcasting any signals she could pick up. Kyle had warned her that with the mountain peaks all around and the crazy air currents up here, the radio signals weren’t always as reliable as they would be down in the flats. Still, after more than two months, you’d think she would have been able to hear something. Anything. Even a garbled transmission would have told her someone else was alive out there. And maybe that would have been enough to hold the despair at bay.

However, as far as Sarah could tell, she was the only person left alive in the world. How that had happened, she couldn’t begin to guess. Clearly, she was immune to the hideous fever that had claimed everyone else…but why? Like most of the people who lived up in Cloudcroft, she was fit enough, had spent most of her life hiking and climbing in the summer, skiing and skating in the winter. But being in shape sure hadn’t saved any of her friends and neighbors.

Or, presumably, her father. He was the chef at the Lodge’s restaurant, had gone down the hill into Tularosa to pick up a load of pistachios and pecans from some local farmers. At that time, there had been scattered reports of a strange sickness hitting the larger cities, but nothing to cause too much alarm. Sarah guessed now that some of those reports must have been suppressed in order to prevent widespread panic, because it had all happened so fast. A few hours after her father left, guests began keeling over while eating breakfast, or out on the golf course, or on their way to check out early because they suddenly weren’t feeling well. They burned with a fever like nothing she’d ever seen before.

And then…and then their bodies turned to ash, and they were gone.

She’d been working at the reception desk because she didn’t know what else to do with herself. Two years of community college completed, but not enough money to finish her degree at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. Besides, going off to school would have meant leaving her father alone, and she hadn’t wanted to abandon him. Not when it was only the two of them, and had been for most of her life.

Anyway, he’d never come back from Tularosa. And neither had anyone else.

During those terrible two days, she’d fought the panic within her, the knowledge that she’d be next, that she’d start to burn with fever, then collapse and fade to dust, as if the fever was so hot, it ended up incinerating the very body that had generated it. Only, that hadn’t happened to her. She’d survived. And now the Lodge wasn’t haunted by Rebecca, the chambermaid who’d supposedly been murdered there a hundred years earlier, but by a living person.

What frightened Sarah the most, however, wasn’t the empty hotel, or the abandoned town outside the Lodge. Not the silence on the radio, or the worry that, even with scrounging from every house in town and the little market down the street and the Family Dollar, she still might not have enough food to get through the winter. She hadn’t ever stopped to think about how much of the modern world’s food supply depended on refrigeration. The power had cut out on the third day, as though the outside world had managed to hold on for just a little bit longer than tiny Cloudcroft, and though there had been plenty of food in the hotel’s freezers, Sarah hadn’t been able to save it.

The weather hadn’t gotten truly bad yet, but she’d lived here all her life and knew what lay in store for her. She didn’t want to think about what the highway would be like with no snowplows to come along and clear away the drifts that accumulated with every storm.

No, what really scared her were those elusive shadows at the edges of her vision, strange movements that couldn’t be explained away by telling herself a bird had just flown overhead, or a sudden gust of wind had set a tree branch dancing. It could be her imagination. Sarah wanted to believe that. She was reacting to things that weren’t there, simply because her brain couldn’t deal with the reality of being alone in this town, alone in the world.

That had to be it. Because the alternative was even worse than being by herself, the only person somehow lucky — or cursed — enough to have survived that hideous fever.

If she wasn’t imagining things, then she feared that, crazy as it sounded, someone was watching her.

Kamal al-Sayid watched Sarah go inside the hotel and shut the door behind her. A frown was pulling at her pretty brow, and he couldn’t help but notice the way she kept sending furtive glances to either side, as though she’d managed to detect his presence, had realized she wasn’t quite as alone here in Cloudcroft as she’d thought.

How she was able to do such a thing, when he’d been very careful to use his djinn glamour to keep himself nearly invisible, to always remain at the very periphery of her field of vision, he was not quite sure. Part of him wanted to go to her, to explain that she had nothing to fear. He would have to do so soon enough, for he could not keep up this furtive surveillance forever. But he still wished to observe her, wanted to be quite sure he had made the right choice.

Oh, she was lovely. That fact could not be disputed. And, from what he had been able to see so far, quite resourceful as well. Each day she ventured forth from the hotel where she’d made her home and went from house to house, gathering up what nonperishable goods she could find so she might bring them back with her. Although there were plenty of abandoned cars available, she did not use any of them, but instead took an electric cart that had once been used by the hotel’s staff, and which she could recharge at the end of each day, using the power provided by a bank of solar panels installed on the top of the maintenance shed.

She undertook all these missions with a pistol hanging from a holster at her hip, and a small hunting rifle sitting on the empty seat next to her. Although she must have known that she was the town’s only inhabitant, it seemed she was not willing to take any chances.

Because she went about armed — a gunshot wound could not kill a djinn, but simply because something was not fatal didn’t mean it wouldn’t still hurt — and because Kamal was still trying to ascertain that his decision had been the correct one, he was in no hurry to approach her. His fellow djinn had already claimed their Chosen and gone on to Taos, where a community was forming, but it was not as if he’d been given any set schedule in which he must do the same. Why shouldn’t he bide his time?

Some of his fellow djinn referred to him as the “scientist,” which to an elemental was not precisely a compliment. However, Kamal saw nothing wrong with his approach here. Once he had gone to Sarah and made her his, then they would be bound together for all eternity. Was it so very strange that he might wish to have ample evidence of her character before making such a fateful decision?

Yes, he had observed her even before the other djinn had set the Heat — as the mortals called the fatal disease that eradicated most of their kind — upon the world. But he had watched her in her old life, watched as she did her best to be diplomatic with demanding guests at the hotel, or cooked and cleaned for her father, who spent his own days cooking for others and so was not terribly inclined to do the same when he got home from work. Observed her as she laughed with friends, or hiked alone on her days free from work, always tackling the steepest trails, the most difficult rock climbs, as though she had to prove she had the strength to face such things, even when her everyday life seemed so very mundane. It was that strength which had drawn his attention toward her, as much as her beauty.

He was glad to see that same strength now as she faced a world forever changed. From time to time, he’d seen her struggle with the possibility of leaving this place, of going down the winding road cut into the side of the mountain…but so far she hadn’t. Did she fear what she would find? Or was it simply that she wanted to stay in a place which was familiar to her, even if that place was now so terribly isolated from the rest of the world?

Going down the hill would have solved nothing for her. They were all gone in Tularosa, in Alamogordo, in the Air Force base at White Sands, and over the mountains in Las Cruces beyond that. Perhaps there had been Immune in those towns and cities — in fact, Kamal knew there must have been, since the Heat was not one hundred percent fatal — but the other djinn, those who wished to see the end of humanity, would have been diligent about making sure any survivors were wiped out. If Sarah had finally decided to leave Cloudcroft and see these things for herself, then he would have been compelled to reveal himself and stop her. Until he had formally made her his Chosen, she would be fair game for those vengeful elementals, and he could not allow that.

No, it seemed he must reveal his presence in the very near future. Sarah could not have known that she was perfectly safe here, that his presence had ensured the others of his kind stayed far away. Even so, he had seen the fear growing in her, a fear not only of being trapped here with the first bad storm, which had expressed itself in the way she sometimes lingered by the sturdiest of the abandoned vehicles in town, as though trying to screw up the courage to climb behind the wheel and drive away from this place, but also the furtive glances which signaled a worry that someone was watching her, impossible as such a thing might seem.

He did not want her to be frightened.

Perhaps it would be best to go about this slowly. There was no reason to tell her he was a djinn… at least not at first. Once she got used to him, then he could tell her the truth. And eventually he would have to take her away from Cloudcroft, since it had been decreed that the Chosen and their djinn must live apart in their own communities, but he had some time.

All he needed was time enough to make her fall in love with him.

Chapter 2

Another meal of canned vegetables and biscuits with no butter…although at least she shouldn’t run out of jam or preserves anytime soon. There was no electricity, but the hotel’s gas for heating water and cooking was supplied by a set of very large propane tanks, and so Sarah hoped she should be able to have hot food for the foreseeable future. The water came from a well, and so there was no shortage of that, either. Unfortunately, she had to pump it by hand — the building had a manual override on its water system — so hot showers were a thing of the past. But at least she was able to have a lukewarm bath twice a week, although the process of heating enough water on the stove to fill her bathtub was laborious, and took her more than an hour each time. Still, it could have been worse.

She ate in the lobby, in front of the fireplace. Because it was cold this evening, she’d spared a few logs and built a fire. They crackled away happily, well-seasoned after a summer and an autumn of being stored in the pile next to the maintenance shed. Covered by a set of tarps, luckily, or things would have been a lot smokier than she would have liked, even if she didn’t have to worry about the smoke alarms getting tripped.

The warm firelight danced off the walls, reflected in the glassy eyes of the enormous stuffed bear that stood by one of the sets of French doors leading to the deck and the garden beyond. More than once that damn bear had scared the living crap out of her when she was distracted and not paying attention, but Sarah didn’t quite want to go to the effort of carting it out of here and storing it in the maintenance shed. At least it provided a little company.

She set down her bowl of creamed corn and reached for the glass of wine that sat on the table in front of the couch. Before the apocalypse, she wouldn’t have said she was much of a wine drinker — beers while out with friends had been her poison of choice — but between the cellar here at the hotel and the stock at the Noisy Water Winery in Cloudcroft’s tiny downtown area, Sarah knew she was set for alcohol for at least the winter. They’d been expecting a shipment from the beer distributor when the Heat struck, and so she’d polished off the hotel’s available supply in the weeks immediately following her involuntary exile.

However, she made sure never to have more than one glass of wine at a time. Just enough to take the edge off, to give her something to drink with her meager dinners besides water from the well. Then she’d re-cork the bottle and put it back on the bar, which still had a decent collection of other liquor. However, scotch and whiskey held even less appeal for her than wine, so she hadn’t touched any of that stuff. It would have been so easy to spend her days drunk, trying to erase the bitter reality of her world. She didn’t want to do that, though. Her father might not have been around anymore, but she still didn’t want to disappoint him.

A small sip. This was a light pinot noir from Washington State, something that didn’t weigh too heavily on the stomach. It probably deserved something better than creamed corn. Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t have a lot of options. The forests around here had their share of wildlife, true, but she’d never been a hunter. A couple of times she’d managed to bag a rabbit with the .22 she carried around on her daily expeditions. Although the whole process of skinning the animal and getting any kind of useful meat off its bones had made her want to gag, she’d grimly forced herself through the process, knowing she needed the protein. The last rabbit had been more than a week ago, however. She’d found some canned chicken and tuna on her foraging expeditions, but she was doing her best to ration that out as well. One meal every couple of days with protein, the rest canned vegetables or fruit, and then bread or biscuits. Her cooking skills might not have been the equal of her father’s, but she could manage biscuits without too much trouble.

The dancing flames in the hearth glinted off the barrel of her pistol, which now lay on top of the coffee table. Sarah found some comfort in taking it everywhere with her, even though she had no idea whether she’d be able to use it effectively if she really were attacked. Not by a human, of course; she knew she was the only human being in this town, possibly in the entire county. But there were coyotes, and maybe Mexican gray wolves, and definitely bears. She’d never seen one come anywhere near town, although she’d spotted a few while she was out hiking. Anyway, better safe than sorry, even though she feared the pistol wouldn’t do much to stop a bear. It was a risk she had to take, even knowing that, if she ventured out completely unarmed and a wild animal did attack her, she wouldn’t have anyone to treat her wounds afterward. She knew some basic first aid, but that only went so far. A really serious injury would kill her.

Which was also why she’d avoided rock climbing, or any hike more strenuous than was necessary to look for rabbits or squirrels to eat. Back before the world changed, she could afford to be more adventurous. It was still a drive down the hill to get to a hospital, but at least there were hospitals. And doctors and nurses and antibiotics and all the other good stuff.

Living alone like this was definitely no fun, but a solitary life was still better than no life at all.

Sarah was just reaching for her glass of wine again when three loud knocks sounded at the door. Good thing she hadn’t actually been holding the glass, because otherwise she would have certainly dropped it.

It had been so long since she’d heard a sound she hadn’t made herself — or hadn’t been made by the local wildlife — that those knocks rang in her ears like shots from a gun. Heart hammering in her breast, she reached for the pistol and slowly stood.

Maybe she was going crazy and had started hearing things. Or maybe a tree had fallen over and hit the side of the building, and it only sounded like someone knocking.

Pistol in hand, she began to inch toward the door to the reception area. Out of habit, she always locked it when she was here…or even when she wasn’t. Safer that way, since the last thing she wanted was an adventurous raccoon to get in and cause havoc in the kitchen.

The three knocks came again. Sarah gulped back a gasp, then forced herself to continue moving forward. A horrible story came into her mind, one that her friend Alyssa had told one night back when they were in junior high and having a sleepover with a bunch of other girls from their class. Something about how a demon would knock three times, in a mockery of the Holy Trinity.

Yeah, and they’re supposed to knock between midnight and three in the morning, Sarah told herself sternly. It’s probably not even eight o’clock yet.

True, but even if it wasn’t a demon…what if Rebecca the ghost had finally decided to make an appearance? Sarah might have joked to herself that she’d welcome the spirit’s presence, since it would mean she wasn’t alone here in the hotel, but that sort of joke was a lot more amusing in the bright light of day. Now, with the only light coming from the fireplace and one Coleman lantern turned down to its lowest setting, the prospect of a ghost roaming the halls of the Lodge suddenly wasn’t funny at all.

All right. She steeled herself to open the door, trying to convince herself that the sound of the knocks had been all in her mind. And if it wasn’t….

Her fingers tightened on the grip of the gun she held. Kyle’s old Colt single-action pistol. More than once he’d told her proudly that the gun never jammed, had always been there for him when he needed it. She had to hope he’d been telling her the truth.

With her free hand, she reached out to disengage the bolt on the door. Now all she had to do was turn the knob.

A quick breath, and she flung the door open. A tall figure loomed over her, and she gasped and took a step back. It really was a bear —

Then he stepped forward, just enough that some of the dim light from down the corridor touched his face.

No, not a bear. A man.

A tall, handsome man.

At least, she thought he appeared to be handsome, although she couldn’t make out too many details of his appearance because of the uncertain lighting. She stared up at him, and he said quickly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His gaze flickered to the gun in her right hand. “But I saw what I thought was a light, up here in the trees. I haven’t seen anyone in months, and so — ”

Sarah found her voice. “So you thought you’d better check it out.”

“Yes.” He hesitated, appearing to look past her and down the hallway to where the fire burned in the hearth. “Is there anyone else here?”

Maybe she should lie, tell him that yes, there was a large group of survivors staying here at the hotel. However, that kind of falsehood would be easy enough to disprove. “No,” she replied, desperately hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “They’re all dead.”

His mouth tightened. “I know. That is, no one was alive down the hill, either, so I figured it would be the same up here.” A pause, and then he added, “I’m Cam, by the way. Cameron Allen.”

“Sarah Wright. I — ” It felt so strange to be talking to someone, to realize she wasn’t completely alone in the world after all. Her mouth suddenly didn’t want to form the correct syllables. “Come on in. There’s a fire. It’s freezing outside.”

“Well, not yet, but probably later tonight.” As he spoke he flashed her a smile, one that made the blood rush to her cheeks.

What were the odds that her only fellow survivor would look like a male model?

She stepped out of the way so he could enter the building. Once he was inside, she closed the door, automatically locking it. “This way.”

It was a little better to have him following her. That way she could avoid staring at him. Because she wanted to stare, even as her mind kept tripping over itself, trying to make some sense of his sudden appearance. Beyond that, she felt very self-conscious. Was her hair a tangled mess? Did she look like she’d just rolled out of bed? With nothing but time on her hands, she actually did spend a few minutes each day putting on some mascara and gloss, or at least tinted lip balm. Stupid, she knew. Well, maybe not completely stupid. At least the balm protected her lips from the sun and the wind.

As they came into the firelight, she could see that Cameron wore a heavy pack on his back — a real rucksack, intended for serious hiking. He paused next to the couch, undid the straps, and eased the pack down to the floor. Rubbing his shoulder, he said, “That’s better.”

“Where did you come from?”

A pause. Sarah noticed how his gaze moved toward the bottle of wine on the table, then shifted toward the floor, as though he didn’t want to look as though he was staring.

“Do you want some?” she asked. Maybe it had been rude not to offer him some right away. She wasn’t entirely clear on end-of-the-world etiquette. “I can go get another glass — ”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

Yes, she supposed that hiking up the road from Tularosa would be thirsty work, especially with that heavy rucksack on his back. About all she could do was hope he’d be happy with a glass or two, wouldn’t get drunk and out of hand. She might have been carrying a gun around for the past few months, but she didn’t know if she’d have the guts to actually use it.

She hurried to the bar and got another glass, then came back into the lobby. Cameron had seated himself on the couch opposite the one where she’d been eating when he arrived. Now that he was closer to both the fire and the Coleman lantern, she could see his features much better. Her first impression had been correct — he really was gorgeous, with cleanly chiseled features, and longish dark hair that touched the edges of the hoodie he wore. A faint scruff of beard covered his cheeks and chin, as though he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but the facial hair only seemed to enhance his looks, rather than detract from them.

“Here,” she said quickly, then set down the wine glass in front of him. She picked up the bottle of wine and filled up his glass a good deal further than halfway.

“Leave some for yourself,” he said, sounding a little surprised at the amount she’d just poured for him.

“It’s all right. I’ve already had a glass.”

“If you’re sure — ”

“I am.”

He lifted the wine glass and swirled its contents, appearing to inspect the flickers of garnet and ruby within the liquid. Then he raised it toward her. “To not being alone on this planet.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sarah said, although his words struck a chill within her. Clearly, he had to have come here from the flatlands. If he was toasting her for letting him know he wasn’t the only survivor, then he must not have met anyone else during his journey here. She forced herself to take a sip from her nearly empty glass. “So you didn’t see anyone else?”

He was in the middle of swallowing, and so he didn’t answer her right away. When he spoke, his expression was solemn. “No. I’m from Roswell. No survivors there, at least as far as I could tell, and I think I walked every street in that town, looking for someone. Anyone. So I packed what I could and hit the road. I went over to Ruidoso. No one there. And then I decided that maybe I’d have better luck in a bigger town, so I thought I’d keep heading west, go on to Las Cruces.”

“Then why Cloudcroft?” Sarah asked. “It’s sort of out of the way.”

“If you take the main roads. But I came down the back way, along the 244. Prettier country, and it’s actually more direct. And I figured it couldn’t hurt to check out Cloudcroft, just to see. It was almost dark when I got here, so I thought I’d bunk in one of the cabins down off the highway. But I guess I must have been looking in just the right direction, because I thought I saw a light on top of the hill, coming down through the trees. I figured I’d better go check it out, even if it turned out to be nothing. Luckily, I’d heard of the Lodge, so I knew there was a hotel up the hill, even though I’ve never stayed here.” He chuckled, and drank some more of his wine. “Too rich for my blood.”

Something about those words helped to ease a bit of the tension in Sarah’s neck and shoulders. He sounded so refreshingly normal, despite his model looks. Yes, the hotel would’ve been a little pricey for a lot of people, and if he was from Roswell, Cam probably wouldn’t have seen the need to stay overnight anyway. The town was close enough to Cloudcroft that you could day-trip it.

“Me, too,” she said. “I’m just here because….”

He lifted an inquiring eyebrow at her. “You wanted to see how the other half lives?”

She smiled. “Not exactly. I actually worked here. So did my father — he’s…I mean, he was the chef.”

The light seemed to go out of Cam’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Empty words. Of course it wasn’t all right…it could never be all right…but that was the sort of thing you were supposed to say. “We’ve both lost people…haven’t we?”

A nod. He glanced away from her, at the flames in the hearth as they flickered and danced. “I mostly try not to think about it.”

Sarah couldn’t argue with that. Every day she tried her best to do the same thing, to act as though the world wasn’t gone. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The world itself was still here — the buildings and the trees and the animals. Only the people had disappeared, gone to gray dust.

“Anyway,” she went on, “do you think there’s a real possibility of people being in Las Cruces?”

Cam swallowed some more wine before he put his wine glass back down on the table. “I don’t know. It only seemed like the most logical place to look.” One hand rubbed at the stubble on his chin, absently, his thoughts clearly very far away.

Don’t stare, she thought. It was hard not to, though. After so much time alone, just hearing the sound of another person’s voice was enough to upset her fragile composure. Having the source of that voice be possibly the best-looking person she’d ever met…well, his looks made it all that much harder.

All right, if she was going to be completely objective, he wasn’t perfect-perfect. His nose was long, and his lips on the thin side. Even so, the combination of his features still worked out to something pretty spectacular.

“I haven’t heard anything from over there,” she said. She reached for her wine but didn’t drink, instead held the bowl of the glass cupped in her palms.

“‘Heard’?” Cam repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I have a ham radio setup,” Sarah explained, then quickly amended, “That is, it belonged to a friend of the family. He taught me how to use it. I’ve been scanning for weeks and haven’t heard a damn thing. Except….”

His gaze sharpened. Those dark eyes suddenly seemed very piercing. “Except what?”

“At the beginning…or close to the beginning. Maybe the end of the beginning. Anyway, after everyone was gone, but while the power was still on, I was trying to figure out what to do, and I remembered Kyle’s radio. So I went to his place and started running through the bands, hoping I could find something. I thought I heard a man’s voice really briefly, but I lost the signal. I couldn’t even make out anything of what he said. Maybe something about a lab, but even that’s just a guess.”

“A lab,” Cam repeated, his tone musing. This time his gaze tracked toward the French doors, although of course you couldn’t see anything of the grounds outside. Just utter pitch black, as though the resort was suspended in the center of an obsidian globe. “Like at Sandia?”

“In Albuquerque?”

“Yes.” He retrieved his wine glass, drank a little more, put it back down. “They had a lot of labs there. Defense, classified stuff. Maybe someone at Sandia figured out a way to survive the Heat.”

“‘The Heat’?” Sarah hated to ask so many questions, but it was obvious she’d missed a lot, isolated up here as she’d been. “That’s what it was called?”

“Well, it wasn’t official or anything. It probably ran through the population more quickly here because you were so isolated, and there weren’t many of you to begin with. Out in the rest of the world, it took a little longer. Enough for the disease to get a nickname that was passed around before everything went dead.”

She supposed she couldn’t argue with that. As to which scenario was worse, she couldn’t really say. Up here in Cloudcroft, it seemed as if the whole thing was over and done with in the space of a day. Out in the world…apparently the apocalypse had lasted a bit longer than that.

“Anyway,” Cam continued, “you’d think if anyone had figured out how to survive the disease, it would have been someone at a government installation, or at the CDC or someplace like that. So it makes sense that the person you’d heard speaking might have said something about a lab.”

“I guess.” Sarah didn’t want to sound quite so dubious, but one syllable wasn’t much to go on. If only that one brief burst had lasted longer than a second or two. But it hadn’t, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to lock on to that same channel again. “Albuquerque’s a long ways away.”

He nodded. “True, but it’s not like there aren’t plenty of cars just lying around for the taking.”

“So you drove here?” Even as she asked the question, she had to wonder. If he had a car, then why the heavy rucksack?

“Part of the way. Then my truck ran out of gas. I guess I could’ve taken one of the cars abandoned on the road — sometimes right in the middle of the road — but something about that felt strange. The dust, you know?”

Oh, how she knew. She’d spent days cleaning the residue of the hotel’s guests off the floor, off the beds. Never mind that no one would ever sleep in those beds again. It still seemed disrespectful to just leave the dust where it had fallen. Once, that dust had been people.

“I get it,” she said. “Besides, the weather’s been pretty nice lately.”

“True. I think it helped to walk, actually. Gave me a chance to clear my head, come to grips with what was going on.”

Sarah understood that sentiment as well. Some days, it seemed as if her walks in the woods were the only thing that kept her from going completely crazy. She hadn’t wanted to contemplate what she’d do when the snows of winter closed in, if not trapping her in the hotel, then at the very least making it much more difficult to get out and about.

Cam yawned then, and sent her an apologetic glance. “Sorry. I’m up at dawn most of the time, and I guess it’s catching up with me.”

“That’s all right.” She hesitated. The situation was already strange enough, but it would be far stranger to have him stay here at the Lodge with her. But what else was she supposed to do…send him off to sleep at a cabin that hadn’t been cleaned out, a house that still had its former inhabitants’ dust lying on the floor? The hotel was nothing except empty rooms, all of them as clean as she could make them. Not the Governor’s Suite, since she’d taken that one for her own, but there were several parlor suites with king beds that should suit Cam just fine. “Let me get you a key for one of the rooms. I have heat for cooking, but there’s no running water, so — ”

He shot her a startled glance. “Are you sure? I could find something else in town.”

“No, it’s all right. We survivors should stick together, right?” He still looked uncertain, so she added, smiling so he’d know it was a joke, “As long as you’re not a serial killer or something.”

A slow grin spread over his face. “No, I’m not a serial killer.”

About all she could do was hope he was telling her the truth.

Chapter 3

Kamal stretched out on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, now faintly illuminated by the glow from the candle on his bedside table. Sarah had bidden him a good night and retired to her own suite, concealed behind a set of glass doors with heavy drapes that hid everything within. The exchange had been rather awkward, as though she understood all too well how odd it was for her to invite a stranger to sleep under her roof, even while acknowledging that it was probably better for them to remain together.

Well, it was a very large roof. And although the suite he now occupied was on the ground floor, the same as hers, it was at the opposite end of the corridor, with windows that overlooked the hotel’s extensive grounds. His djinn-sharp eyes could make out the shape of a gazebo, and an empty swimming pool beyond that; scaffolding around the pool suggested it had been undergoing construction at the time the Heat swept through the world. Just as well; without electricity, Sarah would have had a difficult time draining it, a task that would have had to be done before the winter freeze set in.

All in all, he was quite pleased with how things had worked out so far. She had seemed wary at first, but more curious than anything else. Kamal could sense how relieved she had been to speak to another human being…or at least, someone she thought was a human being.

Good thing that he had studied these mortals, had done his best to learn how to mimic their speech patterns and idioms. He did not think Sarah had noticed anything out of the ordinary about his person; he’d made sure to wear clothing that wouldn’t attract notice, jeans and a T-shirt and hoodie, and a canvas jacket over that. Hiking boots, and a rucksack he’d found in an outdoor store in Las Cruces. Of course he hadn’t gone anywhere near Roswell; that entire story was pure fiction. He’d needed something plausible to tell her, something that made him sound like a survivor from close enough by, if not a true neighbor. Just enough that she wouldn’t find anything too strange, too alien about him.

Clearly she hadn’t, or he wouldn’t be lying here on this comfortable bed. It would have been even more pleasant if he could have shared it with her, but that, he knew, was expecting far too much too soon. He’d noted the obvious signs of attraction in her — quick, sidelong glances, a casual moistening of her lips, the way she smoothed her hair when she thought he wasn’t looking — so he knew that their joining wasn’t an impossibility. Far from it. All things in their own time, however.

Time…well, he’d have to see how much time all this would actually require. Sarah’s comment about the water might have discomfited a mortal, but since Kamal was a water elemental, such minor inconveniences were no trouble for him. He’d thanked her for the pitcher of water she’d given him, saying there should be enough to have a glass to drink with some left over for washing-up, but he had no intention of using it for that purpose. All he had to do was go into the bathroom and lay a hand on the faucet, and the water would come gushing out. It wasn’t even as though he had to conjure the water itself, for it lay in its holding tank beneath the hotel, simply waiting to be used.

A small talent, but still one he would have to conceal from Sarah. For now, anyway.

He’d enjoyed speaking with her, though, listening to the sound of her voice, low but soft, pleasant enough that he guessed he would not easily tire of it. And the way the firelight had glimmered in her big eyes, almost green in its golden glow, even though he knew her eyes were really blue. So lovely, even in the plain long-sleeved T-shirt she wore and her faded jeans.

Just the memory of her long, slim legs in those jeans, and the way her T-shirt had clung to her curves, was enough to make his blood run a little hotter. He told his body it would have to wait a while longer. She was friendly, but skittish nonetheless for all that. If he pushed himself on her too soon, he could ruin everything.

In the meantime, it was best to will himself to sleep, and know he would be able to spend more time with her tomorrow.

Although she was physically tired — just as she was nearly every day, after managing all the minutiae of a life without electricity or running water — Sarah couldn’t quite summon the calm she needed to fall asleep. It didn’t help that the room was fairly cold, either; the bed was piled with extra blankets, but they could only do so much. The same with the fireplace in the sitting area of the suite. Thank God it was actually functional, but the small firebox didn’t give off as much heat as she would have liked. Enough to take the edge off, and that was about it. The room came equipped with a portable heater to supplement the fireplace, but without electricity, the heater’s only use was as an oversized doorstop. More than once, Sarah had wondered whether she should move her base of operations to someplace a little more convenient. Just down the street were several houses she’d always admired, new and large and well-maintained, built chalet-style into the side of the hill.

And yet she’d stayed, stubbornly clinging to this spot, even though she knew her father was long gone, that he wouldn’t come walking back up the hill one day, full of stories about everything he’d survived since the world-changing fever had run its way through the population. Deep down, she’d understood that no one was going to find her here.

Except, improbably, someone had. And not just any “someone,” but a guy probably only a few years older than she, darkly good-looking, friendly. Talk about the universe deciding that maybe it had been just a little too harsh after all.

Which of course it had. You couldn’t exactly compare the thrill of having an unexpected companion — no matter how attractive — show up on your doorstep to the unspeakable tragedy of all those countless millions lost.

No, probably billions. She’d been so isolated here that she still didn’t have a clear idea of the enormity of this disaster, but two people alive in a place even as lightly populated as New Mexico was a pretty clear indicator that this disease had a mortality rate that made Ebola look like the chicken pox.

Where had it even come from? She’d wondered about that a good bit, thinking maybe the disease was something that had escaped from a lab. Something right out of a science fiction novel, or a horror movie. No zombies here, though. Just dust, and emptiness.

She rolled over. On the nightstand was a small vanilla-scented votive candle in a glass holder; she couldn’t bear to be alone in utter darkness these days, and always had to have a candle burning once the sun went down. At some point, she supposed, she’d run out of candles, although that day was a good ways off. Cloudcroft was small, but it had its own candle store, and there had also been some candles in the Family Dollar. She was working her way through those ones first, saving the good candles for later on, when she’d need them to combat the dark, dull days of winter and early spring.

If she stayed here. Maybe it would be better for her and Cameron to take the sturdiest vehicle they could find here in town, siphon as much gas they could carry — she’d discovered a bunch of gas cans in the maintenance shed, so transporting fuel wouldn’t be a problem — and then head out, first for Las Cruces, and then up to Albuquerque. Surely there must still be people in Albuquerque, even if she hadn’t been able to contact them on the radio. She refused to believe that the entire state was empty except for her and Cameron. There had to be survivors.

Somewhere.

Of course, all these plans were predicated on the assumption that the two of them would continue to get along, would decide to work together. For all she knew, a day or two in her presence would be enough to induce boredom, and Cam would want to move on. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time.

All right, Seth hadn’t exactly dumped her out of boredom. He’d wanted to get out of here, wanted her to move to Albuquerque with him so they’d both have a better chance of achieving something. Anything that wasn’t waiting tables, or being a front desk clerk at a hotel. But she wouldn’t leave, and he ended up going without her. She’d cried a little, and had some beers with friends, all of whom told her that Seth was a selfish jerk and that she could do better. She wanted to believe that.

But…what if she was the selfish jerk? What if she’d clung to her responsibility to her father because she didn’t want to acknowledge that she was kind of scared shitless to try to make something of herself in the wide world beyond Cloudcroft?

Possibly. Not that it mattered now.

Anyway, she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to wait and see how things worked out with Cameron. God knows he was easy on the eyes, but what if he turned out to be less than ideal? Maybe he would be lazy, and expect her to wait on him hand and foot. All right, that didn’t sound like someone who’d just walked sixty miles on mountain roads to get here, but you just never knew for sure, did you? Or maybe he was a slob, or someone who wanted to spend all day talking about baseball scores.

Or maybe he’d try to get physical. There was a real conundrum, because she had to admit to herself that she didn’t think she’d mind too much if he did. She knew basically nothing about him, but she did know she reacted to him on a visceral level, was drawn to those smoldering dark eyes, that lean, muscular build. All right, she couldn’t really say his eyes smoldered, exactly, but they were so very dark and deep, fringed with amazing lashes. And that silky dark hair. If asked, she probably would have said she really wasn’t into guys with long hair, that it seemed kind of feminine to her, but there was absolutely nothing feminine about Cameron.

Right then, she wasn’t sure which would be worse — if he got physical before she wanted him to, or if he never did.

What if he was gay? He didn’t seem gay to her, but she’d be the first to admit that her gaydar wasn’t exactly well calibrated. That would be a fine irony, though…to have the handsomest guy to survive the apocalypse right here in her lap, so to speak, and he wouldn’t care at all about her lap because he’d really been hoping the survivor he found would turn out to be Sean, not Sarah.

All right, now would be a really good time to stop torturing yourself, she thought, and rolled over again, this time onto her back.

But she still couldn’t quite get her mind to shut up. It was as though Cameron’s presence had flicked over a switch, made her thoughts race, chasing one after the other. His story sounded plausible enough, and yet….

More than two months had passed since the world changed. Yes, he’d told her how he’d roamed the streets of Roswell and the farms and ranches outside the city, looking for any survivors, but would that kind of endeavor really take two whole months? She had to admit she wasn’t as familiar with Roswell as she would have liked — she’d gone there off and on, one time with a bunch of friends to giggle at the UFO Museum and the kitschy shops that catered to the paranormal crowd, another time just passing through on her way to Carlsbad Caverns — but she didn’t have a good grasp on how big the town really was, how many residential streets Cameron might have had to traverse. Just making a similar inspection of Cloudcroft had taken her a few days, and the tiny hamlet had fewer than a thousand permanent residents.

Anyway, what reason would he have to lie? Maybe he’d spent a few weeks just trying to get a handle on what had happened, steeling himself to face a changed reality. If that was the case, then he was probably in a better place than she. Sarah knew she should have left Cloudcroft weeks or even months ago, tried to find survivors in the wide world. But she hadn’t, staying here out of fear, or vain hope, or maybe good old plain inertia.

Well, now she didn’t have to go looking. She had someone here with her now, and things would never be the same.

Chapter 4

The hotel felt completely empty, silent, dead. And yet Kamal knew better, because he sensed the faint tingle at the back of his neck that told him a human was nearby. Not in the room down the hall — a quick glance let him know the door stood open, revealing a sort of sitting area with a desk and an armchair. A fire burned low in a hearth that was nearly out of his field of vision.

So Sarah had been there recently. He closed the door to his borrowed hotel room behind him and made his way out to the lobby. The fireplace here was not entirely cold, either; the coals from last night’s fire smoldered quietly, ready to be brought to life once again. A pile of logs sat on the floor next to the hearth, so he added several to the coals, using a pair of enormous tongs to arrange them with care, so they might get the oxygen they needed to burn efficiently.

A rustle off to one side made him look up. Sarah stood there, dressed in jeans and a sweater. In each hand, she held a white-glazed mug. Steam curled up from those mugs, along with the rich smell of fresh-brewed coffee.

“I thought you might like some,” she said, extending one of the mugs toward him.

“Thank you,” he replied, and moved closer so he might take the coffee from her. On purpose, he had his fingers brush against hers, just to see how she would react. Color flamed in the fair skin of her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch or try to move away from him.

Good.

“I hope you don’t mind that I tended the fire,” he went on, hoping his casual tone would defuse some of the tension in the room. A welcome kind of tension, to be sure, but he didn’t want to put her too much on edge. He needed her to become relaxed around him, to become used to the reality of his presence.

“No, I don’t mind. I meant to get to it, but then I thought I’d better get the coffee going.”

“Yes, I remember you saying you had propane here.”

“For now.” A lift of the shoulders, an offhand gesture that didn’t fool him for a second. “I try to be careful with it. Luckily, the tanks were filled just a day or so before…well, before. So I don’t think too much of it got used up. It’s hard to tell for sure, though.”

“I can check,” he offered, and her well-arched brows lifted in surprise.

“You can? I suppose I should know how to do it, but my father always took care of that sort of thing at the house — ”

“Yes. I used to do some work on a ranch outside Roswell. They showed me how. I’ll just need some hot water, though.”

She smiled then, clearly relieved to have someone around to help with such mundane issues. “That I have, since I just boiled water for coffee. Let me go get the kettle.”

“Sure.” He got the impression that she wanted him to remain where he was, so he stayed standing in front of the fireplace, sipping at the hot coffee, as she disappeared through the bar and on into the hotel dining room. The kitchen must be located someplace beyond that.

The coffee was good, strong and rich. He wondered if she was using the stores left behind here at the Lodge, or whether this was something she’d gotten in town. Not that it mattered one way or another.

As for the trick with the propane — unlike many of his kind, who might deign to sample human cuisine, or listen to the music created by mortals, or visit one of their art galleries, but otherwise showed little interest in human affairs — Kamal had studied many facets of human life, especially the kind of life led by the people in this part of the country, the place that had once been New Mexico. He had known from early on who he wanted to be his Chosen, and so he had determined to immerse himself in the world she knew. Her future might be utterly changed from what she had once expected, and yet he hoped he could offer her a little familiarity.

Sarah returned, a stainless-steel kettle in one hand. “The tanks are out here.”

He followed her through a set of French doors into the gardens. Now all the grass was yellow, faded into winter’s dormancy. Frost glittered on that grass, and he saw Sarah shiver. The cold couldn’t affect him as it did her, but he made a show of blowing on his hands as he walked, so she wouldn’t comment on his lack of reaction to the near-freezing temperatures.

They went past the gazebo and the now perpetually under construction swimming pool. Kamal saw that Sarah was headed toward a long, low building half hidden behind a rise. “The maintenance shed,” she explained, even though the structure seemed a good deal larger than the average shed.

Behind that building were two large white tanks. “Which one?” he asked.

“The one closer to us. It’s the primary tank. I think it’s supposed to get switched over when it’s empty, but I honestly don’t know if that’s something that happens automatically, or whether we have to come out and do something about it.”

Her expression was troubled, although Kamal couldn’t be sure whether that concern was based on her lack of knowledge about the process, or merely worry that they might be very close to using up the first tank. “Well, let’s see if it’s anything we need to worry about in the near future,” he told her. “After that, we’ll worry about how we’re supposed to switch the tanks.” Her face brightened a little, and he went on, “Pour the hot water down the side of the tank. After that, I’ll feel the metal. It’ll be warmer in the part that’s empty. The spot where it changes will tell us how much is left.”

“Wow,” she said, looking impressed. “It’s really that simple?”

“Usually. Give it a try.”

She lifted the kettle and poured a liberal amount of water onto the tank. The liquid steamed in the cold air, and Kamal hoped the ambient temperature, which appeared to be hovering a few degrees above freezing, wouldn’t alter the results too much. He felt the metal, slowly sliding his hand down the surface of the tank.

There. Fairly high up, too, which meant the tank was a little more than three-quarters full. He didn’t know exactly how much propane such mundane activities as using the stove actually consumed, but since they weren’t utilizing the hot water heaters at the moment, he guessed it should go a long way. Long enough, at any rate. It wasn’t as if the fuel needed to last through the winter.

Because as much as he would have liked to linger here with Sarah for as long as proved necessary, Kamal knew he didn’t have forever. A few weeks earlier, not too long after the day that used to be Thanksgiving when there were still those alive to celebrate it, he’d been called to speak to Zahrias al-Harith, the leader of the djinn community in Taos.

“I hope you don’t plan for this little experiment of yours to go on indefinitely,” Zahrias had said with a scowl. “Your games are not something the elders will smile upon.”

“Oh, not indefinitely,” Kamal replied. “Just long enough for me to be sure.”

“The other djinn here did not need anything close to that length of time in order to be ‘sure.’”

Kamal could only lift his shoulders. What the other djinn did or did not do when it came to their Chosen was of little concern to him. If they wanted to be reckless with their futures, so be it. He did not intend to make that same mistake.

“You have until the turn of the year, as the mortals reckoned it,” Zahrias told him. “No more. If you are not among us by then, I cannot swear to the safety of your Chosen, for you know it was never intended for you to live apart from the rest of us.”

“I understand,” Kamal had said, and left Taos without feeling unduly burdened by the deadline Zahrias had imposed. Return to Taos with Sarah Wright by the turn of the year? That still gave him several weeks. Plenty of time.

If it required even that long. He did not wish to have to hide his water use from Sarah forever. Perhaps he would need to come up with some kind of plausible explanation for why they suddenly had running water at the Lodge. It did not seem as though she was all that technically inclined, and so he could probably offer some sort of jury-rigged device to satisfy her curiosity without providing too many details.

“We have a decent amount of propane,” he said, and while she didn’t exactly sag with relief, she did appear a little less tense. “More than three-quarters of the tank seems to be left, and since I have to think that these tanks probably lasted at least a week between refills, it should be enough for a good long while. It’s not as if the hotel is full of guests.”

The half smile that had touched her full mouth faded abruptly. “No,” she said, “that it definitely isn’t. Anyway, let’s get inside. It’s freezing.”

He wouldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell how cold it was, only that the temperature had no real effect on him.

They traipsed back across the grounds, into the welcome warmth of the lobby. Sarah shut the door, locking it behind them.

After that was done, she looked back up at him. “Well, now that it’s safe to cook…how about some biscuits and eggs?”

Cameron seemed to appreciate the breakfast she made for him — he ate every bit of the scrambled eggs, and had two biscuits, along with another cup of coffee. Thank God for the chickens, and the aplomb that allowed them to keep on laying serenely week after week, apocalypse or no. At first Sarah had thought of trying to move the chickens up to the hotel, maybe keeping them in the maintenance shed or one of the other outbuildings, but then she’d decided to let them stay where they were. They seemed content enough in their covered coops, although she still worried about what to do with them when the truly cold weather came.

She didn’t have eggs all the time, mainly because she didn’t have a good way of storing them without refrigeration, but she’d gathered a half-dozen the day before as she made her rounds through the town. The best way she’d discovered to keep the eggs cool was to put them in a basket she hung from the eaves of the hotel; that way, she didn’t have to worry about any animals getting to them. She supposed a bear wouldn’t have any trouble reaching the basket, although maybe the bears were already hibernating. So far this winter had been unnaturally mild, but she didn’t know if the warmer-than-average temperatures would affect when the animals went into their winter sleep or not. Better to be safe.

Anyway, she had to admit it felt good on a visceral level to watch Cam eat the food she’d prepared for him with a healthy appetite. And he didn’t complain about the lack of butter for his biscuits, or milk for his coffee. True, there was a decent supply of nondairy creamer in the pantry here, but she’d rather go without than put all those chemicals in her coffee. And although she’d put out a little basket of the nondairy containers, he didn’t seem inclined to use any of them, either.

So there was something the two of them had in common. Such a little thing, and yet it made her feel slightly more relaxed about his presence here.

“That was great,” he said, pushing his empty plate away from him. “Where do you keep the chickens? Somewhere on the hotel grounds?”

“No,” she replied, then picked up both their dishes and set them on the counter next to the sink. Gone were the days when she could have simply turned on the tap to clean up, but later on she’d fill a bucket with water from the well and bring it in so she could wash their plates and forks and coffee mugs. “I didn’t really have a good place to put them, unless I wanted to do some serious remodeling. Besides, I was worried that moving the chickens might upset them, keep them from laying. So I just go around and gather what I need, then bring it back here.”

“And the water?”

“The hotel has its own well. But I have to pump it manually, which is why we’re on rations.”

To her surprise, Cameron smiled at her comment. “I might be able to help with that. Do you have any solar panels around here?”

“There are some here at the hotel, and there are houses around town that have them if you don’t want to mess with what’s already in place. Why? Are you a solar panel engineer or something?”

“No, but I’ve worked with them a bit. I could probably figure out a way to get some hooked up to the well’s pump so we’d have running water. We’d have to be sparing with it, but it would be better than having to haul it manually from the well. And since the propane supply looks good, that means you’d have hot water again.”

The mere thought of a hot shower, after all these weeks of tepid baths, was enough to send a shiver of anticipation through Sarah. Maybe some people would have taken offense at the way Cameron had casually begun to take over, but right then she didn’t care. Having to go it alone these past two months had been hard. Right then, she was glad to have someone willing to shoulder some of the burden.

“Right down the street are some fancy vacation houses with solar setups,” she said. “Do you want to take a look?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

This time, they both paused to pull on their jackets before heading outside. Sarah led Cameron to the maintenance shed, where the golf cart she used to get around was plugged in, ready to go. Its charge wouldn’t last as long when hauling Cam’s weight as well as hers, but they didn’t have all that far to travel.

“This way, I wouldn’t waste any gas,” she explained as she piloted the cart out of the shed and down one of the little access trails on the property. “There are abandoned cars all over town, and a gas station, but this just seemed simpler for getting around.”

“Makes sense.” He was quiet for a moment, watching the hotel’s grounds give way to the narrow residential streets that bordered the property. “It’s hard to pump gas without electricity. I know there’s some kind of manual override to bypass the electrical systems at gas stations, but I have no idea how that works.”

Unlike propane tanks and solar panels, apparently. Sarah didn’t comment, though. She was just glad that he had a solution to their water problem.

Unlike her. For a moment, she felt a stir of irritation with herself, then realized she needed to let it go. She’d done okay these past few months. It wasn’t as though she could really expect herself to turn into some kind of technical genius just because the apocalypse had rolled around and made such skills more important than ever.

They came to one of the houses she had in mind, and she eased the cart down the steep driveway, hoping the little vehicle would have enough juice to get back up once they were done. She’d already foraged in this house, but had done so on foot because it was close enough to the hotel that it wasn’t any real burden to take back a few bags of supplies. Solar panels, on the other hand, were a heck of a lot bulkier.

“They have some panels mounted on the roof,” she explained as Cam got out of the cart and began looking around. “But there’s also an array on the hillside right below the house.”

“Show me,” he said, with such a note of command in his voice that she couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. However, she told herself that he was probably just eager to see the solar panels, figure out if they would work.

“This way,” she replied, and headed toward the north side of the property so they could skirt the house itself and come out in the steep “yard” — really, not much more than patchy bare dirt with a few seedling pines to break up the monotony — to the west.

Cam strode past her once he caught sight of the solar panels, a modest array of about ten of them, all two feet by three feet. Luckily, they weren’t so big that they wouldn’t fit in the back of the golf cart.

Without speaking, he started inspecting the undersides of the panels, the conduit that must connect them to the house’s electrical grid. After a long moment, he seemed to nod to himself, then flipped open a panel at the back and began disconnecting the wires he found there.

“Do you think they’ll work?” she asked.

A nod, but Cameron didn’t glance up from his task. “I think so. Like I said, they won’t give us a lot of power, but it’s not as if we’re going to be running the air conditioning units or something like that. The well doesn’t need to draw a lot of energy.”

“What about the refrigerator?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

She experienced a small stab of disappointment at his reply, but tried to tell herself that having running water was more important than refrigeration. Because it was so cold now, she could keep perishables outside if she was worried about their freshness. Even during the day, high temperatures were barely hitting forty. Besides, she’d already lost the really important stuff — the meat and cheese and dairy — in the days right after the power failed. She’d had to grimly load all of it into plastic garbage bags, drive it out into the forest, and dump everything. Now the only thing she really had to worry about refrigerating was the eggs.

Cameron’s fingers moved on the mounts that held the solar panels to their housings. Sarah couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but a minute or so later, he had one of them free. “Can you take this?” he asked. “It’s not too heavy.”

She wanted to tell him that she was perfectly capable of carrying heavy objects, but getting snarky would serve no purpose. Instead, she nodded and took the solar panel from him, then hauled it across the yard and back up to where the electric cart waited. The panel did fit in the back…barely. By the time she was done, Cameron had a second panel loose. Since they seemed to have agreed upon a system, she lifted it in silence and again took it to the cart as her companion kept working. When he had the third panel freed, however, he picked it up himself and met her as she was coming back from the cart.

“This should be enough for now,” he said. “No point in ripping up the whole yard if I can’t get any of this to work.”

“All right.” Actually, that sounded like a great idea. Although no one could ever have accused her of being out of shape, carrying the heavy panels uphill in rough terrain wasn’t exactly a picnic. Better to find out whether Cam’s plan was at all practical before she spent all morning wearing herself out.

They got in the cart and went back to the hotel, the little vehicle puttering along, clearly not happy about the extra burdens of the solar panels, not to mention a well-muscled six-foot-two man. Or maybe six foot three, Sarah mused as she drove around to the back of the hotel, getting them as close as the paths would allow to the site of the well. Cameron might not be a full foot taller than she, but since she was only five foot four, she thought he was pretty damn close to that.

He picked up all the panels at once without showing any real sign of strain. So…strong, too. Tall, dark, and handsome.

Oh, boy.

Without speaking, she followed him to the well. It really didn’t look like all that much — a round metal manhole, a few oddly shaped metal pipes sticking out of the ground a few feet away.

“I’ll just lay the panels flat for now,” Cameron said, kneeling on the cold, hard-packed earth as he pried up the well cover. “That won’t work in the long run — they need to be up off the ground. But again, there’s no point in building a frame for them if I can’t get them to play nice with the wiring in the well’s pump.” He set the heavy metal lid off to one side, then stuck his head inside the opening.

“Do you see anything?” Sarah asked. She’d never actually lifted the well’s lid, worrying that if she started mucking around inside, she might really screw up something, or possibly contaminate the water. The manual pump was located some distance away, over by the maintenance shed, and so didn’t require her to work with the well itself. Anyway, with no electricity, there hadn’t been much point in messing with the well.

“I see the pump. And I see the wiring harness.” He pulled his head out of the dark hole in the ground, pushing back his overlong hair. It wasn’t quite long enough to tie back into a ponytail, so Sarah could see why it might get in the way.

For some reason, though, all she really wanted was to run her hands through that hair. Trying to blink that image out of her mind, she said, “And that means…?”

“It means I need some tools.” He got to his feet and brushed at the dirty knees of his jeans.

“There are tools in the maintenance shed. I can go get them — ”

“No, it’s better if I can just go get what I need. This might take a while, so there’s no point in you standing around out here in the cold.”

“I don’t mind.”

“But I do.” He flashed her a quick grin, the kind of smile that could melt kneecaps at fifty paces. “Don’t worry — I’ll yell if I need you.”

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “If you need anything — ”

“I’ll call.”

“Okay.” She offered him a smile of her own, although she doubted hers was quite as brilliant as the grin he’d given her just a moment earlier. As she turned to go back into the hotel, she saw him head off toward the maintenance shed, his head high, confident.

Sarah supposed she’d see soon enough whether that confidence was at all misplaced.

Chapter 5

Of course he wasn’t really going to hook up the solar panels to the wiring harness. Kamal just had to make it look as if he had. It was his djinn powers that would actually set the water flowing again on the property.

Since he’d made sure that Sarah wouldn’t look at his work too closely, he pulled some wires up to the solar panels, then wrapped them with black electrical tape. Nothing that would fool an expert, or even a halfway knowledgeable hobbyist, but good enough. As he worked, the skies overhead began to lower, growing darker, heavier. Because his element was water, he could sense the moisture in those clouds, the gathering storm. The season might have been mild so far, but he was certain that snow was on its way.

Well, let it snow. He and Sarah had done their exploring for the day, and could retreat inside where it was warm and safe. That suited him well enough, because then he could spend more time in close proximity to her. He was pleased by the way she’d worked with him this morning, carrying the heavy loads of those solar panels with not one word of complaint. Then again, after the past few months, she’d probably gotten used to doing what she needed to in order to survive.

He returned the tools to the maintenance shed, then began to walk back toward the hotel. As he went, the first fat flakes of snow began to fall, so light and insubstantial it hardly seemed they could be formed of water, must instead be drifting down from some celestial feather bed. They’d barely dusted his hair and shoulders before he was safely inside in the relative warmth of the Lodge’s kitchen. A faint trace of heat remained from the breakfast Sarah had prepared earlier, although he knew the lobby must be more comfortable. He could smell the wood smoke from here.

Sarah was standing by the fireplace, a heavy log in one hand. At his approach, she set it down and gave him an expectant glance. “How did it go?”

“Come see for yourself.”

Her head tilted slightly to one side, but she didn’t argue. In silence, she followed him into the kitchen. Her expression was skeptical — one eyebrow at a slight tilt, mouth not quite pursed.

Very well. He knew she had every reason to doubt him, but he also knew something she didn’t.

He reached over to the faucet and turned the tap. Water began to pour out, filling the pitcher he’d set there in preparation for this moment.

Sarah’s eyes widened, startlingly blue. “Oh, my God! You did it!” Clearly not skeptical now, she hurried over to the sink and put a finger under the tap, as though she still had to feel the water for herself to believe that it really was flowing, wasn’t just a product of her imagination.

“Well, I don’t know how much of a charge the panels are going to get this morning. It’s started to snow. So it’s probably better to play it safe.” He shut off the tap before turning to face her.

She didn’t appear too discomfited by his comment. “Still…you got it to work.” Her gaze shifted, moving toward one of the windows in the far wall. Outside, the snow had continued to fall, still not thick enough to coat anything, although Kamal could tell the temperature was cold enough that the precipitation should stick. “That’s more than I’ve been able to manage.”

He did not wish to see her deprecate herself. After all, he hadn’t managed any great technical feats of his own, had only made her believe that what he had done with his powers was the result of scientific knowledge rather than inborn talent. “You managed a lot,” he said. On impulse, he reached out and took her hands in his. Her fingers felt small and cold, and he wrapped his hands around hers, hoping he could warm her — and also hoping that she wouldn’t try to pull away. If she did, he wouldn’t stop her, for he would take such a gesture as a signal she was not quite ready for any sort of physical contact, even something as innocuous as holding hands.

However, she didn’t pull away. She stood there, her slender body quite still, as though she wasn’t sure what she should do.

Encouraged, Kamal went on, “You’ve survived here for two months, all on your own. You’ve kept yourself safe. That’s a lot, even if you don’t think it is.”

Her eyes met his. Such a clear, beautiful color, like purest aquamarine. “No, I’m a coward. I should have left. I should have gone to look for other survivors — ”

“There aren’t any,” he broke in. “I’ve looked, too. I’ve found no one except you.”

She seemed to falter then, her gaze moving away from him to focus on the slow-falling snow outside the windows.

“And if you’d left,” he continued, “I would have come here and found this place empty. If you’d gone down the hill into Tularosa or Alamogordo, if you’d continued to White Sands and on through the mountain passes into Las Cruces…I probably would never have met you.”

A long pause. Her hands were warming within his grasp, coming to life. She looked up at him, mouth set. When she did speak, her voice was so low, even his djinn ears had to strain to hear her words.

“Would that have been so awful?”

“Yes,” he said, knowing the word was no more than the truth. “It would have been terrible.”

This was the time. He bent, and touched his lips to hers. Gently — oh, so very gently, because he could tell that she was on the edge, might bolt if he was too forceful. But oh, how he had wanted to kiss her in that moment, her eyes wide and tragic, face pale but no less beautiful for all that.

And she accepted the kiss. She did not pull away, did not tear her hands from his and go running for the sanctuary of the suite she’d claimed as her own. She stood there, mouth warm and welcoming, and allowed him to taste her at last, to put his arms around her so he might pull her close.

They stood that way for a long moment, and then he did let her go so she could try to recover herself. She pushed her heavy brown hair away from her face and stood there in silence for a moment. At last she gave him a lopsided smile and said, “Wow, that was fast. I thought we’d at least make it two or three days before that sort of thing happened.”

“Do you mind?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Do I…?” She chuckled, although there was something forced about the sound. “I’m not sure ‘mind’ is the right word. I mean, it’s probably silly to get hung up on ‘should’ and ‘would’ when it’s the end of the world, right?”

“Right,” he echoed. “You just — you just looked so happy then, when the water came out of the tap. And then you looked sad, as though you thought you were somehow lesser because you hadn’t been able to do that hack on your own. Don’t put yourself down, Sarah. You don’t deserve it.”

One hand went up to play with the thin silver chain she had around her neck. It wasn’t a cross she wore, which might have been expected, but a small, stylized version of the Zia sun symbol that had once adorned New Mexico’s flag. A powerful sigil, with its four rays multiplied by four — the points of the compass, the stages of life, the seasons of the year, the times of day. He wondered why she had chosen it, rather than a more obvious symbol of faith.

“I guess,” she said after a long pause. “Or at least, I’ll try to tell myself that I shouldn’t think that way. I suppose I’m shaking my head at the universe. Here the world’s ended, and everything is awful, and then…and then suddenly Mr. Perfect shows up on my doorstep. My borrowed doorstep, anyway.”

“You think I’m Mr. Perfect?” Kamal asked, amused. He supposed that, to a mortal, a djinn would seem perfect…although he doubted his fellow elementals would ever assign such an adjective to him.

“Oh, God, that sounded terrible, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know about terrible,” he responded, then reached out so he could take her hands and pull her close to him once more. “I kind of liked the sound of ‘Mr. Perfect.’”

“Great. Now you have a swollen head.”

He could have made an off-color joke in answer to that comment, but realized that would not have gone over terribly well. Yes, they had kissed, but they weren’t quite at the point where they could bandy ribald words with one another. He settled for saying, “Not yet,” before he bent and kissed her again.

Sarah didn’t seem inclined to protest. She allowed him to hold her, to claim her mouth with his, and Kamal decided that was enough for now.

Cam was acting so…normal, like they hadn’t just shared a couple of fairly intense kisses. Then again, what was he supposed to do? Go down on one knee and declare his undying love for her? They barely knew one another.

No, he’d poured a glass of water for each of them, then led her out to the lobby, where they could sit by the fire and watch the snow float down gently, just beginning to cover the deck outside and the landscape beyond. This snow seemed more determined than the flurries she’d experienced so far this season, and she wasn’t quite sure how she should feel about that. On the one hand, there was something very cozy about being here by the massive fireplace with its gleaming copper hood, knowing that you were warm and inside and away from the weather.

And not alone. She’d begun to think she would never see another human being, and then…

…and then along came Cameron. Besides being handsome and smart and resourceful, he really knew how to kiss. Strong, yet tender. Passionate without being overbearing. He smelled good, too, like wood smoke and pine trees and all the things she liked.

Even with all that, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of the snowfall. Something about it seemed so final, as though they’d lost their last chance to get off this mountain before winter really set in. Sarah had been fairly sure she had enough food to support her through those long, cold months, but with two of them here? She’d have to redo all her calculations, and hope to hell she could make everything stretch.

“Hey,” Cameron said, and she startled, realizing that she’d been staring at the fire and frowning fiercely. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she replied, an automatic response. “Just thinking about winter.”

“You’re worried?”

“A little.”

“Don’t be.”

His arm went around her, pulled her close. There was something awfully comforting about having such a strong shoulder to lean her head on. That had been the worst of it — to grieve alone, to have to come to grips with such a change in the world with no one there to talk to, no one to comfort her during the dark, frightening nights, when the entire planet seemed to echo with its emptiness.

Now someone was here…an amazing someone…and yet she was still worrying.

“I don’t have to worry because now you’re here to take care of me?”

“That’s not what I said.” He shifted on the couch so he could look down into her face. His dark eyes were intent, holding hers so fiercely, she didn’t think she could glance away, even if she wanted to. “It’s pretty clear that you’re able to take care of yourself. I just think…well, it’s usually easier if you don’t have to shoulder the load all alone. That’s all.”

How could she argue with a comment like that, when she’d just been thinking basically the same thing a few minutes earlier? “You’re right,” she said. “And it’s still early for the really heavy storms. Most of that seems to wait until after Christmas, even though we’ll get some before then. Which is good. It doesn’t feel like Christmas if it’s not snowy outside.”

Cameron was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving around the large room where they sat. “Did they decorate a lot for the holidays here?”

“Oh, yeah. Pine garlands on all the banisters, lights outside, a huge tree in the lobby.” Sarah could feel herself smiling as she recalled the Lodge in all its holiday splendor. “It looked like something out of a Hallmark Christmas special or something.”

Her companion nodded, although something seemed a little hesitant about the smile he wore, as if he didn’t quite know what a Hallmark Christmas special actually was. Well, she couldn’t give him too much grief over that. Hallmark tended to be kryptonite for guys.

“After the snow lets up, maybe we can do something about that,” he said. “I mean, I know the solar panels I set up won’t be enough to power a lot of exterior lights or anything, but we could go out and gather pine boughs for garlands, at least enough to decorate in here. Would you like that?”

Of course she would. Usually by now the decorations would have already been in place, but she really hadn’t been thinking about Christmas. Survival had consumed most of her thoughts. “I’d love it,” she replied. “God knows, the one thing we have plenty of here in Cloudcroft is pine trees.”

“All right, it’s a date.” He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her again, this time softly on the cheek. “We’ll just have to see how long this storm lasts.”

Chapter 6

As it turned out, the snow fell for most of the day. Kamal could tell Sarah was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to go out and start gathering supplies for the holiday garlands right away. However, she told him that they might as well go down to the basement and begin going through the decorations stored there.

“We won’t need to put up everything,” she explained as she led him down the cellar stairs, a Coleman lantern in one hand. “But if we go through it and stage what we need, then when we do have a chance to go out and cut the fresh boughs, we’ll have a better idea of how much to get.”

That sounded like a practical plan to him. Also, it was good to see her animated and happy, thinking ahead. Although the djinn did not celebrate Christmas, they did observe the winter solstice, and the world’s return from the short, dark days of that season. It would be good to see the Lodge dressed up in its holiday garb.

As Sarah began to go through box after box of decorations, he reflected that she hadn’t been joking when she said the hotel staff went all out with its holiday trim. It seemed there was enough stored down here in the basement to adorn every doorway in the hotel — which wasn’t all that far off from the truth.

“We used to put little wreaths on all the doors,” she explained as she pushed a box filled with the little faux-greenery rings out of the way. “People thought it was a nice touch. But I don’t think there’s much point in going that crazy.”

“No, probably not,” he agreed, relieved that he wouldn’t be drafted to hang wreaths on every door in the place. “And for the front door, we’ll have fresh pine.”

“That’s the plan. Luckily, I’ve helped put those together, so I know what to do. I’m still looking for the florist’s wire, though. I know there are a couple of spools of it somewhere around here.” Sarah settled back on her heels and surveyed the boxes scattered on the floor around them, as though she had X-ray vision and could see inside each and every container.

“I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’ll have to see if I can dig up some in town. I don’t think the Family Dollar would carry anything like that, but Mrs. Ortega used to make and sell wreaths during the holidays. There’s probably some stored in her house.” Up until that moment, Sarah had looked happy, animated, but her expression darkened then. No doubt she was thinking of how the aforementioned Mrs. Ortega would have no further need of florist’s wire…or anything else, for that matter.

Because Kamal didn’t want Sarah to dwell on such things, he said quickly, “I’m sure we’ll come across it. What about that box?” He pointed to a large container that hadn’t yet been opened.

“No, those are the Christmas tree decorations. We won’t need those for a while.” She still seemed subdued, leading him to remark,

“Well, at least not until closer to the holiday.” He had to mentally count out the days. Six to go.

Sarah tilted her head at him. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea. I mean, have you ever actually cut down a pine tree?”

“No,” he said. “But it can’t be that difficult.”

“I don’t know.” A small pause, and then she added, “Doesn’t it seem sort of wasteful? Back in the day I really didn’t think about it — we’re surrounded by trees here, after all — but why cut a tree’s life short, just to hang sparkly things on it for a week or so?”

Kamal guessed that she was talking about more than simply trees. His tone gentle, he said, “Possibly, but trees die all the time. Bark beetles, lightning strikes…there’s no guarantee they’ll be around forever. So I wouldn’t worry about it. If the time comes and you want a tree, then we’ll get one. Okay?”

Still she seemed to hesitate. Then she gave a reluctant nod. “Okay.”

Something else seemed to be bothering her. Was she regretting the kisses they’d shared? He couldn’t think of a way to ask without sounding as though he was questioning their newfound intimacy as well, and so decided it was better not to say anything.

A few minutes passed as she sorted through the boxes, setting aside spools of ribbon in shades of red and gold, and pre-made miniature arrangements of silk and plastic flowers and leaves. A small sigh escaped her lips. “Are we stupid for doing this?”

“Doing what?”

She gestured toward the clutter of holiday decorations around her. “Getting all this out…pretending everything is normal. That snowstorm isn’t going to last forever, but there’ll be more to come. Maybe we should get down off this mountain while we still can.”

“I don’t think we need to decide that now,” he said carefully. Of course there was no way he could tell her that they’d be gone by the first of the year. Or rather, he knew he would have to tell her the truth soon enough, but they still had time. For some reason, he found himself strangely reluctant to broach the subject. Insane as it sounded, he enjoyed interacting with her as if he was just another mortal. Would she treat him the same way once she found out that he wasn’t quite human?

“Then when?” She pushed herself to her feet, brushed at the dusty knees of her jeans. “The weather won’t hold back just because we don’t feel like making a decision right now.”

Since she had stood up, Kamal rose as well. He went to her and took her hand. Noting some resistance in her touch, he decided he wouldn’t pull her close to him. At least she hadn’t attempted to snatch her hand out of his grasp. This way they were still touching, even if an actual embrace didn’t seem like the correct thing to do at the moment.

“If it looks like we’re going to get a truly bad storm…well, then we’ll make sure we’re ready to leave. Surely someone up here in Cloudcroft was equipped to plow the roads?”

Sarah gave a reluctant nod. “Jeff Hansen. He lives…lived…at the far end of town. Made some extra cash every winter by getting one of those plow attachments for his truck and using that to keep things clear.”

“So we have a way of getting down the hill,” Kamal said. “Even if the weather gets bad.”

“I suppose so.”

This time he did pull her close. She didn’t protest when he bent and kissed her. In fact, she let go of his hand so she could put her arms around him and press herself against his body. Even through the bulky sweater she wore, he could feel her breasts touching his chest, and a wave of desire passed over him, so intense that he had to force himself not to lift her from the floor, take her upstairs so he could make love to her right away. Somehow he managed to remain calm, even as he kissed her and held her, and breathed in the warm scent of her skin.

She stepped away at last, and offered him a shaky smile. “Did I look that needy?”

“I don’t know about ‘needy,’” he replied. “I just know that I wanted to kiss you.”

“I wanted to kiss you, too.” This was said almost shyly, as though she was surprised by her own ardor.

Kamal couldn’t blame her for that. She’d spent the last few months merely existing, probably ignoring the needs of her body, at least for anything beyond eating and sleeping and staying warm. “Then let’s go upstairs where it’s not so dusty and damp, and I’ll kiss you some more.”

This time she laughed — a true laugh, with nothing forced about it. “Sounds like a plan.”

Sarah hadn’t really expected to spend part of the apocalypse lying on a couch in the lobby of the Lodge and making out like she was still back in high school. But that was exactly what happened — as soon as they got back upstairs, Cameron led her out to the room where they’d sat and watched the snow, only this time he pushed her down onto the sofa, his body heavy and strong on top of hers, his mouth more insistent now. She responded in kind, wanting this.

Wanting him.

And when he slid his hands up under her sweater, bare skin against bare skin, she hadn’t tried to stop him. No, not even when his fingers moved across her breast. She was wearing a bra, but she could still feel the warmth of his flesh through the thin fabric. Her nipples went hard, and he probably felt that, too. He didn’t say anything, though, only removed his hand after a few caresses, as if he knew she wasn’t quite ready to go any further than that.

Actually, though, she thought she might be. Pooled, throbbing heat between her legs made her realize how much she wanted him. However, she told herself she needed to be smart about this. For one thing, she hoped he had some condoms hidden in that rucksack of his, because no way was she going to bed with him if he didn’t have protection. The apocalypse was bad enough without risking an unplanned pregnancy.

They both sat up. Sarah did her best to smooth her mussed hair, while Cam surreptitiously tugged at his jeans.

Probably hiding a raging boner in there, she thought with an inward grin. Or at least, she really hoped he was. That way, she’d know she had the same effect on him that he had on her.

“It’s stopping,” he said, and she raised an inquiring eyebrow. “The snow,” he added, by way of explanation, as he pointed toward the French doors.

Sure enough, although the skies still looked gray and heavy, the white flakes falling from the clouds had dwindled to almost nothing. Sarah got up from the couch and went to the door, straightening her sweater and adjusting the bra underneath, which wasn’t lying quite where she wanted it. She had to hope Cameron wasn’t paying attention, was still looking at the view outside. The yard and the grounds beyond it had a fairly respectable coating of white now, the landscape blurred by what she calculated was around three or four inches of snow.

“Good,” she said. “That’s just enough to be pretty without getting in the way too much. But it’ll be dark soon, so I think we have to forget about bough-gathering until tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. It’s the kind of night that’s better for staying in.”

He spoke in a neutral tone, but Sarah still felt another rush of heat go through her at his words. The memory of the kisses they’d shared, his hand on her breast, was far too vivid. Her body wanted more. She’d never been the type to jump into bed with people, so she really couldn’t explain her current behavior. Then she wanted to laugh at herself. “People”? Three boyfriends in total, and the first one had been the love of her sophomore year in high school. She hadn’t slept with him, had told herself that she wasn’t ready. She probably wasn’t ready to sleep with Chris, the guy she dated when she was nineteen, either, but at that point, she’d decided it was stupid to hang on to her virginity as though it was something precious as diamonds. No deep-held religious convictions held her back, no desire to wait until she was married or anything like that. It was just…the timing hadn’t seemed to work until then.

Chris ended up joining the Marines and moving away, and after him had come Seth. She’d thought she and Seth could make it work. He’d had bigger plans, though. Plans he’d hoped would include her, but she was too much of a chickenshit to leave everything she’d known behind.

Well, it was all gone anyway, so her cowardice hadn’t served much purpose. Or rather, Cloudcroft was still here, but everything that had it made it the town she loved — her father and the people she worked with, Louise at the candle shop and Marybeth at the turquoise store, her friend Candy who waited tables at Conrad’s — all that had disappeared as the Heat swept over the world.

Worried that Cameron might read too much into her long hesitation, she said, “Yes, it is a good night to stay in. And I saved some potatoes, so I’ll make soup. Sound good?”

The smile he gave her then was warm, eager. “Sounds great.”

Besides the potatoes, she had a couple of precious cans of cheddar cheese soup, some evaporated milk, and canned corn. Combined with some seasonings and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, the ingredients made some surprisingly tasty potato cheese soup. They had biscuits, too, and a bottle of wine she’d liberated from the Noisy Water Winery a while back.

Cameron had busied himself as well, and stoked the fire in the hearth that separated the bar from the restaurant’s dining room. Sarah hadn’t touched it all the time she’d been living here alone, but he insisted, saying that she’d gone to a lot of effort to make their dinner, so they should sit down and eat it at one of the dining tables like civilized people.

As he opened the wine, he glanced over at the grand piano that sat on a little dais next to the hearth. “Do you play?”

“No,” she replied. “I wish I did. It would have given me something to do with my time. Do you?”

“No,” he said. “No money for piano lessons in my family.”

Sarah could relate to that. Cam’s confession only relaxed her more. They might have only known each other for a couple of days, but she could tell that their backgrounds were very similar. Working class, or maybe the bottom layer of the middle class, but certainly no pretensions to anything more than that. If he’d been some rich guy from Santa Fe, he would have intimidated her.

As it was…she just liked being with him.

They drank wine, and ate their soup and biscuits. Their conversation turned to what they might do with all this snow…see if any of the snowmobiles up at Jensen’s rental place had gas in them…build a snow fort…revive the covered skating rink at the end of town. Anything but fret about how the snow might have cut them off from the outside world. How could you even worry about something that didn’t exist anymore? Cameron coming here was a one in a million shot; Sarah doubted more refugees would be making their way up the steep highway to see if anyone was still alive in tiny Cloudcroft.

The fire was warm, the wine rich and deep. Maybe too heavy for the light meal, but she wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t as if she had to worry about driving. No, they would stay here, safe and warm. Or mostly warm. The fireplace in her room did okay, but the guest room where Cam was sleeping didn’t have a fireplace. Overnight, as the temperatures dropped and the skies cleared, that room would only get colder and colder.

She didn’t want him to get cold. She wanted….

Across the table, their eyes met. His were so deep and dark, with such heavy lashes, they didn’t look real. Sarah wondered if he had some Italian or Greek or something similar in his background, despite his very Anglo-Saxon last name. He did seem almost too exotic to have come out of prosaic Roswell, New Mexico.

Neither of them spoke. For a long moment, they sat there in silence, and then Cameron got up from his chair and extended a hand to her. She hesitated, knowing what the gesture meant. If she reached out her hand to take his, then this evening would move forward to its inevitable conclusion. And if she refused, instead picked up her glass so she could drink the remainder of the wine within, she’d be telling him she wasn’t ready, that he was rushing things.

Which would it be?

His eyes held hers. Steady, calm, but with a fire deep within. He would be hurt by her refusal, but she somehow knew that he wouldn’t push her.

This was crazy. She hardly knew him. She should pick up her wine, offer him a smile, act as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t normal, though. Nothing would be normal again.

Sarah took a breath, and laid her hand in Cameron’s.

Chapter 7

Her fingers felt so fragile in his, so delicate. And yet he’d seen those same small hands carrying solar panels earlier, and later efficiently chopping their precious store of potatoes into neat cubes for their soup. Kamal knew Sarah was anything but fragile.

Still, he also knew he needed to be careful.

He’d intended to guide her back to his room, but where the hallway branched off, she shook her head and tugged him toward the wing where her suite was located. “I have a fireplace,” she murmured.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Although a chilly room wouldn’t bother him, it would make her uncomfortable, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable. Besides, making love with a fire crackling in the background was always a desirable thing.

The suite was larger than he had first thought, with the bedroom and bathroom branching off to the right, and a little sitting area with a couch, desk, and television set to the left. No wonder Sarah had taken up residence here. The parlor room she’d given him to sleep in was certainly comfortable enough, but it couldn’t compare to this suite.

Logs had already been laid in the hearth, so all he had to do was take a long match from the box sitting on the mantel and touch it to one of the kindling twigs to get the fire going. If his element had been fire rather than water, he wouldn’t have needed the match at all — well, except that using djinn talents in such a way would immediately alert Sarah that her companion wasn’t quite as human as he pretended to be.

They would have to have that conversation at some point, but for now, he only wanted to focus on her. On the silky hair that slipped over his hands as he cupped her face and kissed her again, on the smooth white sweetness of her flesh after he’d taken hold of her sweater and pulled it over her head. The bulky clothing she wore had done its best to conceal the graceful curves of her body, but there was no hiding them now. His fingers traced lightly over the swell of her breasts, and she pulled in a little startled gasp of a breath, although he noticed she did nothing to stop him, only moved closer so he could reach behind her and undo the hooks of her bra. Like the rest of her clothes, it was a utilitarian enough garment, plain white, no lace or anything to adorn it.

Not that her beautiful breasts needed anything to enhance them. They fell free, full and rounded, so delicious-looking that he could do nothing but bend his head and take one rosy-brown nipple into his mouth, delighting in its hardness beneath his tongue. She moaned, her fingers catching in his hair as she held him close.

It was good to stand here in front of the fire and taste her, but he thought they would both be more comfortable in the bed, only a few paces off to the right. He slipped his arms under her and lifted her, eliciting another gasp, followed by a delighted smile. With one hand he reached out and tugged down the sheets and blankets, then deposited her on the bed. Right then he wished very much he had already told her he was a djinn, for he could have simply snapped his fingers and made the rest of her clothes disappear.

Since he knew doing so wasn’t feasible, instead he took one of the heavy boots she wore and unlaced it, then did the same with the other before tugging both of them off, along with her thick socks. Next came the jeans, although he left her panties in place for now. They, too, were plain white, but he found them enticing nonetheless, for he knew what they concealed.

“No fair,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, although Kamal didn’t know whether she did so because she was cold, or because she was suddenly shy now that she was nearly naked while he remained fully clothed. “If I have to freeze, so do you.”

“I can stir up the fire, if you like.”

“You’ve already done that,” she responded, giving him a wicked smile. “What I really want is you in this bed with me.”

Ah, he could definitely indulge her in that request. As she stared up at him, he unzipped the hoodie he wore, then pulled off the T-shirt he had on beneath it, followed by his own boots and socks and jeans. “Better?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, her gaze taking in his unclothed form. “Much better.”

That was as good an invitation as any. He got into bed next to her, pulled her close so he could feel her naked breasts rubbing against him. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she reached down to touch him, to feel the hardness of his shaft beneath the cotton undergarments he still wore.

This time he was the one who sighed — no, to be fair, that was more of a gasp. He decided to let her know that turnabout was fair play, and took hold of the underpants she wore, pulling them down so he could reveal the small patch of dark hair between her legs, could slip his finger into her, feel how aroused she was, how wet and ready.

Right then, all he wanted was to bury himself in her, but he also knew it would be best to go about this slowly, to make every inch of her respond to him. He wanted to make sure that this experience with him would far surpass any she might have had with a mortal lover. Yes, he could tell she was not a virgin, but at the same time, he did not think she was one to have given her body freely. She had not yet experienced everything that the world of lovemaking had to offer.

His tongue moved over her breast again as he stroked her. Another moan, this one lower, more guttural. He could hear how her breathing began to speed up, how her heart began to pound harder.

Yes. She cried out, her body spasming around his fingers. Good. He was somewhat surprised by how quickly she had responded, but then, she had gone without for several months…at least. Although she had said nothing yet of her past lovers, Kamal had the impression that she was alone when the Heat descended.

Some men might have left off there, but he was not yet done. He grazed kisses all down her flat stomach, pausing so he could dip his tongue into her. At once she cried out, her back arching, but he held on to her, tongue moving slowly up and down, circling, savoring her sweetness, until he felt her spasm once again, her juices flooding his mouth.

Only then did he lift his head from her, reach down so he could get rid of the tight human-made underwear that constrained him so. His tip touched her — and then she startled and backed away, scooting up toward the pillows.

He frowned, wondering what on earth was wrong. Surely she was not the kind of woman to tease him into giving her pleasure, only to back away when he wished to complete the act.

“Protection?” she said in a near-whisper, her big blue eyes meeting his, imploring.

Of course. Sarah thought he was human, and therefore could get her with child. She had no way of knowing that a djinn had to consciously decide to get a woman pregnant, that there were no “accidents” among his kind.

“Sure,” he replied, then made a show of reaching over the side of the bed so he could retrieve his discarded jeans. He didn’t have any condoms actually hidden within his pants pockets, but she did not have to know that. A flick of his fingers, and a foil-wrapped packet appeared within them. This would not be quite as pleasurable with the prophylactic in place, but he knew he needed it if things were to progress any further.

Moving quickly, he slid the condom over his shaft, then tossed the empty wrapper onto the nightstand, so Sarah might see it and be reassured.

“Better?” he murmured as he went to position himself between her legs again.

“Yes,” she said. As if to atone for stopping him mid-flow, so to speak, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around him, moving her hand up and down slowly.

Ah, yes. The condom didn’t muffle the sensations as much as he’d feared it might, and he went even harder as she stroked him — but carefully, as though she knew to be careful so he wouldn’t spill his seed prematurely. After a few moments, he realized he couldn’t hold off for much longer, and pulled away, needing to enter her, to feel her surround him.

That was it. He had, of course, made love to other women over the long centuries of his life, and yet there was something different about the way Sarah felt, about how the familiar act suddenly became new again. Her body began to move with his as they fell into a rhythm together, with a delicious slowness at first, and then more and more frenzied until the blessed moment when he let go, the release exquisite, perfect. He held on to her, watched her eyes shut as another climax rippled its way through her as well.

Even when it was over, he did not want to let go. Not yet. He clung to her, listened as her breathing began to slow, then became calm and sure. Her eyes opened, wondering, yet filled with a sort of astonished affection.

“That was….” she began, then stopped, as though she didn’t quite know which adjective she wished to use.

“Perfect,” he said. He kissed her gently on the forehead, then on her cheek, marveling at the delicate texture of her skin.

“You’re perfect,” she replied.

“Mr. Perfect.”

That comment made her chuckle. Kamal kissed her again, then pulled out slowly, eliciting another gasp from her. Luckily, the bathroom was only a few paces away; he climbed off the bed and discarded the condom, then cleaned himself up as best he could. At least now he didn’t have to worry about Sarah questioning the running water.

When he returned, he was slightly disappointed to see that she’d already gotten dressed again. Or rather, she’d pulled on a tank top, along with her underpants. The ensemble still showed enough of her form that he decided it was probably better not to protest. Instead, he reclaimed his own briefs from where they lay on the floor and put them back on. Afterward, he climbed under the covers and snuggled next to her, experiencing another stir of desire when she wrapped her arms around him.

Her head resting on his shoulder, she said, “I’m glad you’re here, Cam.”

In that moment, he wanted more than anything to hear her say his true name, even though the one he had taken was not so very different. Soon, he told himself. You still have to think of the best way to break the news to her. He knew now that Sarah was the woman for him, that she must be his Chosen. They had time, though. He didn’t want this wintry idyll to end. Once he had told her the truth, he would have to take her with him to Taos, and they would no longer be alone with one another.

Right now, however, he only had to tell her the truth. “I’m glad I found you, Sarah.”

Cameron slept next to her, the steady rise and fall of his breath more comforting than she could have imagined. It should have felt strange to have someone here, after sleeping alone in this room for the past two months, and yet Sarah thought it seemed more as if he had always been there. Even after this short time together, she knew she’d never fit with anyone like she did with him.

Maybe this was the time to ponder the strangeness of the universe, to wonder what she could have possibly done to deserve survival at all, let alone with someone like Cam at her side. She wasn’t so starry-eyed by awesome sex to think they still wouldn’t have plenty of challenges to face in the months and years ahead, but she also wasn’t quite so frightened, now that she didn’t have to face the winter and the empty years all by herself.

She shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, but as gently as she could so she wouldn’t disturb the man sleeping next to her. It wasn’t completely dark, because the glow from the hearth in the next room made its way in here, just enough for her to see his fine profile, the scatter of dark hair on the white pillowcase. Right then, she wanted to lean down and kiss him awake so they might make love again…but she didn’t. They had plenty of time ahead of them, and it was important that they get their rest. The next day — if the weather cooperated — they’d venture out and gather those pine boughs, then come back and get warm, and work on decorating the Lodge. Christmas wouldn’t be empty and dark, but full of light and laughter.

And, though she didn’t want to even think the word, because that might jinx things…love.

They both slept in, long enough that a pale wintry light peeking through the curtains woke them. Cameron leaned over and kissed her, pulled her into his arms. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to find warmth in one another’s bodies, to join once again — although she made sure to have him pause and put on another condom. Should she have been concerned that he was wandering around in a post-apocalyptic landscape, armed with a bunch of rubbers?

He probably just had them in his wallet, she told herself afterward. Lord knows Seth always had a bunch on hand. It was second nature for a lot of guys, like carrying a pack of gum. Cam hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, and Sarah hadn’t asked. If he’d been with someone, then she was gone now, just like the rest of the world’s population. A day might come when he’d feel comfortable talking about his past, about all the people he had lost, but she wouldn’t push him. After all, they had plenty of time.

They both squeezed into the shower together to try out the new hot water. As Cameron soaped her back, Sarah had a hard time deciding what she’d missed more — hot showers, or good sex. She really couldn’t say, and it didn’t matter now. She had both.

Breakfast was quick, coffee and oatmeal and dried fruit. After they were done getting the pine boughs, they’d need to swing by the henhouse and see what the chickens had come up with overnight.

At least she and Cam wouldn’t have to worry about the weather keeping them indoors. The sky overhead was almost painfully blue, like the world’s most perfect sapphire. A few puffy white clouds floated in that blue expanse, and far off to the west, Sarah could see the familiar glint of White Sands, stark and pale against the San Andres mountain range.

It was cold, though. They bundled up and trudged through the fresh-fallen snow, their breath rising like smoke in the still air. Cameron carried a folded-up tarp for transporting the pine branches, and Sarah had a Thermos of extra coffee to keep them going.

“Did you say something about snowmobiles?” he asked after they’d gone about a hundred yards.

“There are some, but the lot where people used to rent them is at the far end of town,” she replied. “Where we’re going to get the pine branches is actually a lot closer.”

His face fell so much that she wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “Oh.”

“We’re almost there. It’s not like I’m taking you all the way out to the forest proper.”

Which she wasn’t. Pine trees crowded most of the lots in Cloudcroft, and it wasn’t as if they had to worry about taking foliage from someone’s private property, so she’d decided all they really needed to do was go down the hill a little bit, then jog over on Wren Place, where there were some particularly nice specimens. All told, the walk was really not much more than a half-mile round trip.

Then again, trudging through freshly fallen snow was not exactly the same thing as walking blithely along a dry road. Sarah could feel her toes starting to get numb, despite the thick wool socks she wore. Well, this wasn’t going to take all that long. They’d be back inside the Lodge within an hour at the most, and then they could put their feet up in front of the hearth in the lobby, and warm their toes and dry their socks.

“Over there,” she told Cameron, pointing toward the property she had in mind. Pine and fir trees crowded thickly there, in varying sizes and heights. No worries about having to reach low-hanging branches here, that was for sure.

“Got it,” he said, then stopped so he could take the tarp he held and unfold it on the snowy ground. From inside his jacket, he produced the clipping shears they’d taken from the maintenance shed. Shears in hand, he walked over toward the trees she’d indicated. “About how much do you think we’ll need?”

Sarah had been pondering this question on the walk over here. There wasn’t much point to decorating the entire Lodge when it was only the two of them. But a wreath for the front doors, and swags for the fireplace in the lobby and in the bar and dining room, and garlands to wrap around the banisters of the staircase from the main floor to the second level of the hotel, which had a sort of arcade where you could look down toward the lobby. That should be plenty.

“Maybe around twelve yards’ worth, give or take,” she replied. “If it turns out we need more, we can come back. But I don’t think the tarp can carry much more than that anyway.”

“Got it.”

Cameron turned away from her so he could concentrate on cutting the first batch of branches. Sarah began to walk toward him so she could help with laying them on the tarp. It would have been better if they could both cut the boughs at the same time, but they’d only been able to find the one pair of shears. It made sense to have Cam do it since he was taller than she and could reach farther without having to shift his position.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her pause, however. For a brief second, she had the crazy idea that another survivor had heard them and was now approaching. But then as she turned to look, she realized that their new visitor wasn’t human at all.

It was a large black bear.

Apparently, it hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be hibernating right about now. The bear shuffled toward her, and Sarah went stock still. She knew that running was the worst thing she could do.

“Cam,” she called out, her voice a desperate whisper.

He looked toward her, smiling…a smile that faded as soon as he caught sight of the enormous animal. Lowering his shears, he murmured, “Don’t move.”

“I won’t.”

A nod, but she could tell he was doing his best to avoid any sudden movements, anything that might put the animal on alert. For herself, Sarah was cursing her carelessness in not bringing her gun along on this little expedition. She’d been so wrapped up in her plans with Cam, she’d completely forgotten the precautions she’d been taking for the past two months.

Well, there wasn’t much she could do about it now, except vow to never be so stupid again. Maybe the pistol wouldn’t have been enough to stop a charging bear, but it certainly would have been better than nothing.

For a long, awful moment, both she and Cameron remained stock still, both of them watching the bear to see what it would do. At first it seemed to take very little notice of either one of them, was intent on snuffling around the base of a tall fir tree. What it might be smelling, Sarah had no idea. All the dogs had disappeared from Cloudcroft months ago, around the same time all the people were dying. However, she got the impression the animals hadn’t been affected by the Heat; it wasn’t as though she’d seen little dog-sized piles of gray dust around town. No, it was more as if something had called them away, although she couldn’t begin to guess who or what it might have been.

But if it wasn’t the scent of dogs that preoccupied the bear, there had to be something else attracting it. Breath held, she watched as the bear gave up its sniffing of the one tree that had fascinated it, then moved on to a stump. However, the stump didn’t appear to hold much interest, because after another minute, the animal stopped smelling around and looked straight at Sarah.

Oh, shit.

She really didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. Already her feet had begun to feel like blocks of ice as she stood there, unmoving, in the snow. She couldn’t hold her breath forever. And Cam was a few yards away, too far to be of much use. Not that she really knew what he could do to help.

Since she’d already been holding her breath, it couldn’t exactly strangle in her throat. Something seemed to choke her, though, as the bear let out a low growl, then went up on its hind legs before dropping back down to a crouch. And then it charged.

A scream was halfway out her throat before she realized that the bear wasn’t the only thing moving. Behind it was a steep incline where the property sloped up to the next street above them. Out of nowhere, the half foot of snow that coated the hillside began to flow, going faster and faster, an avalanche that seemed to coalesce into a moving mountain, headed straight for the bear.

It didn’t have a chance. The enormous mound of snow barreled right into the animal, knocking it off its feet and carrying it along in its relentless path, away from her and down the hill. Hand to her mouth, Sarah looked over at Cam in terror before she realized he wasn’t in any imminent danger, that the snow mountain and its victim had been swept harmlessly past.

And as she looked at Cameron, she noticed something very odd. He had his hands raised, was making strange pushing motions, motions that seemed to echo the path of the mound of snow. The air glowed around him, blue-white, shimmering down his shoulders and arms. It was only after the bear had disappeared from sight that Cam lowered his arms. His chest raised and lowered, as though he had just run a hard mile.

Staring at him, Sarah could think of only one thing. She didn’t know how it was possible, but Cameron had called the snow to protect her from the bear.

“What…?” Her voice came out all scratchy and hoarse, rough with anxiety. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What are you?”

Chapter 8

As soon as Kamal saw the bear begin to advance on Sarah, he’d known what he must do. At the same time, a wave of dread swept over him. He must save her…but in the process he would be forced to reveal himself.

Unfortunately, he had no other options available to him.

Snow was water, and so would obey his command. It was a simple enough thing to make the drifts on the hillside above them flow like liquid and move to carry the bear away. The poor animal probably had no idea what was happening to it, and he did his best to make sure that it would come to no permanent harm. However, Sarah’s safety was paramount. Everything else came a distant second.

He had steeled himself against her inevitable response, but even so, the words of her frightened question were like spears to his heart. Not “who are you”?

What are you?

“I am a djinn,” he said quietly.

She stared at him, her expression a mixture of fear and sudden annoyance. “A what?”

“What your people sometimes called a genie.”

No response at first. Sarah continued to stare at him with those wide, unbelieving eyes, as though she next expected him to sprout wings, or possibly turn green. “You look like an ordinary person.”

“You perhaps were expecting a genie to be a large blue bald man?”

“I….” The word trailed off, hanging in the air between them. She looked so positively upset, so betrayed, that Kamal wanted nothing more than to go to her and pull her close, tell her that this changed absolutely nothing between them. He didn’t, however. Somehow he knew that if he attempted to put his arms around her, she would only do her best to get herself free of him. Even though she was afraid.

Now he noticed that she was shaking, although he didn’t know whether those tremors were caused by the emotion that had overcome her, or simply by standing there too long in the snow. Either way, he thought it best for her to get inside before she became truly chilled. “You’re shivering,” he said, his tone as gentle as he could make it. “Let me take you inside.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” she burst you. “You — you’re not even human! You lied to me! And last night — ” She broke off there, as if it had just come home to her, as if she had just realized that she’d allowed herself to be intimate with someone from a strange and alien race. One gloved hand went to her throat. “How could you not tell me?”

“Well, considering the way you are currently reacting, I think most people would understand the reason for my reticence.”

That retort made her delicate features go still and cold. A spot of color burned high on each cheekbone. When she spoke, her voice sounded considerably calmer, although it, too, was as chilly as the wintry December morning. “That doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. So just — just leave me alone. Go back to wherever you came from. Just get the hell out of Cloudcroft.”

A flicker of irritation moved through him. While he could understand why she might be angry, she clearly had no idea what she was asking of him. “I can’t do that. It would not be safe.” Should he tell her about the other djinn, the ones who had made it their goal to wipe out all traces of humanity, save for those who were Chosen? No, better not. He feared she would think he was only trying to frighten her into obedience. There should be time. Those djinn would not be done with clearing out the cities for a good while yet. Tiny Cloudcroft might not even be on their collective radar.

He hoped.

“I was fine before you came along. I’ll be fine after you’re gone. So get out.”

Having delivered this ultimatum, she turned away from him and began trudging through the snow, headed back toward the Lodge. All Kamal had to do was reach out with his powers and immobilize her so she could go no further…but he did not. He knew an action such as that would only make her that much angrier. Better to let her go, allow her time to cool down and accept who he was. Sooner or later, he would have had to tell her the truth anyway. He only wished he could have done so on his own terms.

“I’m leaving,” he said quietly. She kept moving, head down, hands curled into fists as she followed the trail they’d already broken through the snow, and gave no sign that she had heard him.

“…but I’ll be back.”

No crying. If she cried, her tears might freeze and stick to her eyelashes, and that would be a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than the quiet shattering of her heart.

Oh, don’t be a drama queen, she told herself in some irritation. You’ve only known the guy for a couple of days, and you slept with him once. How can your heart be breaking when you weren’t even in love with him?

Problem was, she thought she might have been in love with him. Or at least was beginning to be. And now it turned out he wasn’t even human.

A djinn. What in the ever-loving hell?

She’d always prided herself on being matter-of-fact, a realist. No head in the clouds for Sarah Wells, that was for sure. No fairies and fancies and unicorns. She lived close enough to Roswell, but she didn’t believe in little green men, either. Grey men. Whatever.

But now Cameron was saying he was a djinn, something out of Aladdin, or Scheherazade, or whatever. He didn’t look like a genie. He looked like…well, a man. An extremely good-looking man, but still. It wasn’t as if he had scales or horns or something.

Well, of course he didn’t. He was a djinn, not a demon, although, if pressed, she wasn’t sure she could have explained the difference between the two in any sort of a coherent manner. The supernatural was not a subject she’d studied or cared anything about, except when it came to telling tourists the story of the Lodge’s resident ghost.

She stomped up the front steps of the hotel, barely pausing to knock the snow off her boots before she went inside and locked the doors behind her. Would those locks even make a difference? Cameron’s display a few moments earlier hinted of powers she couldn’t begin to guess at. For all she knew, he could pop right into the building without even touching a doorknob.

And she kind of doubted “Cameron” was his real name. Just another lie he’d given her. Everything was a lie, wasn’t it? He didn’t come from Roswell. He sure as hell wasn’t some kind of working-class former ranch hand without the money for piano lessons. Nothing he’d told her was real.

Last night…had that been real? Right then she wished with all her heart that it wasn’t, that she’d only dreamed of him making love to her. Making love. There was a joke. Call it what it really was. Having sex. Or maybe just plain old fucking.

Thank God she’d insisted that he use a condom. Otherwise, she could be walking around with a little half-djinn embryo inside her, or at least the beginnings of one.

A shudder wracked her then, and she hurried over to the couch so she could sit down, fearing her trembling knees might not support her for much longer. Her fingers shook so hard, she could barely undo the laces on her snow-soaked boots. Eventually, though, she got them off and set them on the hearth to dry. The fire had burned low, but it still gave off enough warmth that it would speed up the drying process. Worse come to worst, she had a spare pair in her room, but these ones were more comfortable.

As if any of that mattered. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

Angry as she was at him, she couldn’t help but wonder exactly where Cameron had disappeared to. Somewhere else in New Mexico, or to some otherworldly plane altogether?

There was just so damn much she didn’t know. Somehow she doubted she would ever find out.

“You cannot leave her there like that,” Zahrias said, a formidable frown knitting his brow.

“You think I do not know that?” Kamal sent a glare of his own at the leader of the djinn community in Taos, nestled in the Rio Grande valley of northern New Mexico. Because he’d returned to the resort town without his Chosen, he’d been compelled to give Zahrias an account of what had happened. The wound was raw enough that he had no fondness for the task, but at least Kamal did not have to worry about being accused of hiding something. “I cannot bear to think what might happen to her if one of the other djinn were to find her. Still, Cloudcroft is a small and obscure place. There is no reason to think that anyone would be seeking to cleanse the town so soon. Not when there are so many other places that can yield richer hunting.”

Zahrias’ mouth thinned. Kamal sometimes wondered about the other djinn, why he had agreed to lead this community when he had taken no Chosen of his own. It did not seem as if all his beliefs aligned with those he had volunteered to rule. But those were questions that must wait until another day. Kamal had quite enough on his own mind right now. He had come to Taos, to the house that had been given to him — and which he had hoped he would share with Sarah — but had been there no more than a half hour before the summons to this interview had arrived.

Little flickers of worried flame appeared around Zahrias’ head, indicating that the fire elemental was displeased with Kamal’s response. “You say that she must surely be overlooked, and yet her safety cannot be guaranteed. Not completely. You must return and bring her here.”

“She is very angry with me.”

“With good reason. I had a feeling this gambit of yours would fail miserably. But if you want her — ”

“I do,” Kamal broke in. Never mind that if glances were blades, those looks Sarah had shot in his direction would have pierced him multiple times. In that moment as the bear approached her, he had realized how terrible it would be to lose her now, when he was so close to making her his forever. Truly, he could not have borne it. “Now more than ever, I think.”

“Then you must go to her. Do whatever you have to in order to convince her that you are sorry, that this ‘disguise’ of yours was not intended to hurt her.”

“Yes, Zahrias.” As he spoke, an idea began to form in Kamal’s mind. Yes, Sarah was angry — and hurt, and betrayed — and yet he thought he might have a way of reaching out to her, of proving to her that he truly did care, and wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

But to make it really work, he would have to wait until dark….

The solar panels, the hookup to the water pump — it had also been a lie. The first sign that something was wrong was when Sarah went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She hoped that doing so would help her come back to herself, allow her to focus on what she should do next.

Only, when she turned the handle, nothing came out of the tap. Not in her bathroom, not in the kitchen, not in the public restroom next to the gift shop. Frowning, she’d retrieved her spare boots, since the ones she’d worn that morning were still damp, then went out to check on the solar panels. Maybe they’d gotten knocked down in the storm, or the connections had somehow pulled loose.

Everything appeared intact at first glance — until she moved closer, really looked at the wires. They’d been attached to the solar panels with black electrical tape, but they weren’t attached to any inputs or leads, as far as she could tell. The whole setup looked like it had been patched together to fool the casual observer.

The casual observer being her, of course. What other powers had he been hiding?

Anger lanced through her, and she stomped back into the hotel, not even caring about the mud she tracked in. By that point, the sun was high enough in the sky that it had begun to melt the snow, and large patches of soggy earth had appeared. In a way, that was good. It meant she’d find it easier to get around.

Because she didn’t want Cameron — or whatever his real name was — coming back to Cloudcroft to plead with her. The storm had been a wakeup call. She needed to get out of here. Maybe there weren’t any people left down the hill…but maybe there were. If she didn’t at least try to find out, she knew the question would haunt her forever. Besides, if she busied herself with getting away from this place, she wouldn’t have the time to wonder what the djinn had really wanted from her.

Her anger allowed her to ignore her scruples about taking someone else’s vehicle, even if the owner of said vehicle had now been dead for more than two months. Oscar Martinez had owned one of the nicest trucks in town, a big Dodge Ram that wasn’t even a year old. Four-wheel drive, skid plates to protect the undercarriage, the works. Even if some rocks had spilled across the highway, which they had a tendency to do in bad weather, she figured that truck could get around them. Or over them, as the case may be.

She packed her clothes, packed all the food and supplies she thought she’d need, much of which she was able to procure from the camping store in town. This felt even more like stealing than taking the truck, but again, Eric, the store’s owner, wasn’t going to need any of this stuff. Ditto for his former customers. By the time she was done, dusk had crept over Cloudcroft. Too late to start down the hill, even in as capable a vehicle as this one. She’d have to park it in the shed at the hotel, and then head out in the morning. Well, one more night here wouldn’t kill her. She could say goodbye to the place, make her farewells to Rebecca the ghost — if she even existed — and then start fresh as soon as the sun was up.

No worries about bears, either; she had both her pistol and her rifle on the passenger seat beside her. A precaution she hadn’t needed, apparently, since she hadn’t seen anything bigger than a raven since she set out on this little expedition. If that bear had survived Cameron’s attack, then it seemed to have fled to the hills.

Smart bear.

Sarah wound up the road that led to the Lodge, high beams on to show her the way. At least the snow hadn’t returned. The sky overhead was clear, the first stars showing in the heavens already startlingly bright.

Then she came around the bend that opened on the hotel’s driveway, and stomped on the brakes.

White fairy lights glittered in the trees. More white lights framed every window, and outlined the eaves. Far above, on top of the cupola where she used to keep vain watch, hoping against hope that someone might finally appear and tell her she wasn’t alone in the world, glittered a bright five-pointed star.

What in the world…?

Fingers clenched on the steering wheel, she started moving slowly toward the building. As she drew closer, she saw someone standing on the front steps.

No, not just someone. Cameron.

He looked very different. Gone were the jeans and the hoodie and the T-shirt. Now he wore a long, open robe made of what looked like silk, and full pantaloons and boots. A thick silver bracelet gleamed on each wrist.

Djinn clothes? It sure looked that way.

Sarah put the truck in park and killed the engine. Heart beating with irrational strength in her chest, she got out of the cab and closed the door behind her. A step toward the djinn, then another. She stopped when she was a yard or so away, then glanced past him to the hotel, now glittering in holiday splendor.

“Your work?” she asked, since she didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes,” he replied. An evening wind caught at the hem of his robe, causing the silk to billow and flutter. With the sun down, it was now bitterly cold, but he didn’t seem to notice, even with that distractingly bare chest and stomach. “I need to talk to you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Please.”

The word was said simply, but even in her anger, she could hear the need, the pleading behind it. Anyway, he was blocking the door. She wasn’t sure what he would do if she tried to get around him, but she also didn’t think she really wanted to find out. Better to let him say his piece and then go. If he really wanted to overpower her, there wasn’t much she could do to stop him.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Don’t think you’re going to change my mind, though.”

He inclined his head. “I only want to talk.”

She shrugged, hoping the apparent nonchalance of the gesture would hide the tension roiling within her. “All right. Come inside.”

The door was still locked, just as she’d left it. She unclipped the carabiner with its set of hotel keys from her belt and inserted the one that opened the deadbolt on the front door. It was only as the door began to swing inward that she realized it had been adorned with a wreath, one with a big red bow on it.

The second thing she noticed was that the interior of the hotel was not dark, as she’d been expecting, but lit by the sconces on the walls and the heavy wrought-iron chandelier that hung in the center of the lobby. Adding to the illumination was an enormous fir tree, set off to one side of the lobby. White twinkling lights covered all of its ten feet and more, and ornaments gleamed within its branches. A fire danced in the hearth, and on the table was a decanter filled with rich red wine, and a plate of cheese and crusty bread and fresh fruit, the sort of thing she hadn’t tasted in months.

She turned back toward Cameron, who had closed the door behind him and stood there with a watchful expression on his face, as though observing her to see how she would react to the sudden appearance of all this Christmas cheer. “You did this?”

He nodded.

“All of it? Just while I was gone?”

“Yes. It was really not all that much work.”

For a djinn, maybe. Sarah remembered how it had taken five people working three days straight to decorate the Lodge last holiday season. What, did he just have to snap his fingers to make all this appear?

“It looks beautiful,” she allowed, and something in his posture relaxed slightly.

“I am glad you like it. Come, you must be hungry. Let us sit down and talk.”

And get me tipsy so I’m all suggestible and forgiving, she thought. Sorry, not happening. Even so, she knew she wanted to hear what he had to say, wanted to hear his explanations. Maybe then she’d have some answers to the questions that had been plaguing her all day.

“All right,” she said.

They both seated themselves on the couches. Sarah was relieved to see that the djinn didn’t try to sit next to her, and instead took the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. He poured some wine into a pair of glasses, then reached across the table to hand one to her.

“Thank you for letting me speak to you.”

“You’re not going to change my mind.”

“Perhaps.”

He looked so self-assured. And, she was forced to admit to herself, pretty damn spectacular. Something about his dark, exotic looks was only enhanced by that getup he had on. Looking at him now, she wondered how she could have ever thought he was just a regular guy.

“What’s your name?” she asked abruptly. “Your real name, I mean. Not the one you handed me.”

“I am Kamal,” he replied. “Kamal al-Sayid.”

“So…you’re from Saudi Arabia or something?”

“No. Djinn names sound like the given names from that part of the world, but I assure you, my people lived there long before there was a Saudi Arabia, or any of the other nations in that region.”

There really wasn’t anything reassuring about any of this, but still, Sarah was oddly relieved to hear his real name. Kamal. It suited him. “So what’s a djinn doing hanging around Cloudcroft, New Mexico?”

“To be with you, of course.”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be flattered that a supernatural being wanted to get in my pants?”

He didn’t look offended by the remark. Instead, he smiled slightly, as though remembering exactly what it had been like to get in those pants. “You misunderstand. I chose you to be my partner.”

“Chose me? Why? Did you get tired of djinn women or something?” If there even are djinn women, she added mentally. I have no idea how any of this is supposed to work.

“No. That is, whether or not I am weary of them has nothing to do with why I chose you. I knew that you would be one of those who would survive the Dying, and I also knew that I wanted you to be the one who would come to share my life.”

Survive the Dying…. Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you knew this was going to happen? The end of the world?”

“The end of your world,” he corrected her, although his tone was kind, and the dark eyes that held hers concerned, almost gentle. “The djinn created the Heat so they might take back this world. Because they created the disease, they also knew who would survive.”

Oh, God. Sarah didn’t even realize she’d gotten to her feet until she found herself standing, her entire body taut with fury. “You did this? You killed everyone?”

“No, I did not. There is a small group of us who disagreed, who thought the creation of the Heat was an abomination. There weren’t enough of us to stop it, unfortunately. All we could do was get the assurance that the mortals we selected as our partners would be safe. This is why I chose you, Sarah. I had to make sure no harm would ever come to you.”

The room seemed to be spinning around her, the lights from the Christmas tree swirling like some kind of mad, out-of-control carousel. She began to lift a hand to her forehead, hoping the pressure might help to stop this sudden rush of vertigo. At once Kamal was there beside her. His hands reached for hers, holding them tight, giving her a center to focus on.

No…she couldn’t let him touch her. He was evil. Or…was he? He’d said that he wanted to save her, protect her.

She didn’t understand any of this.

“I know it is a great deal to take in,” he murmured, still grasping her fingers. “And you have every right to be angry. I am angry, too, at what my people did. Please know that not all of us are like that. Truly, we are not.”

She blinked and made herself look up at him. His dark eyes were earnest, beseeching her to understand, to believe him. How could she, though? He’d already lied to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?” she asked at last, her voice barely for than a scratchy whisper. “What was the point of all those lies?”

“Ah, Sarah.” He pulled her to him, and for some reason, she didn’t resist. Call her crazy, but it felt good to have those strong arms go around her and hold her close, almost as though she was supposed to be there next to him. “That was my own foolishness. I had chosen you, but I wished to know you better. I wanted you to treat me as one of your own kind, rather than a djinn. I thought…I thought if you could love Cameron, who was no one terribly special, then you would also love Kamal, would realize we were one and the same, at least at heart. I know now that I made a terrible mistake. It was wrong of me to mislead you. All I can do now is ask your forgiveness.”

How could she forgive him? He’d lied repeatedly…and even though he claimed to be innocent, he’d just admitted how his people had created the plague that destroyed the world, the terrible disease that killed her father and everyone else she knew.

“You don’t deserve it,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened, but to her surprise, he only nodded. “You are right. I don’t deserve for you to forgive me. I can only hope that you are kind enough, gracious enough…noble enough…to give me that which I don’t deserve.”

Kind…gracious…noble…was she worthy of any of those adjectives? She didn’t know. No one had ever called her any of those things before, just as no one had ever spoken to her like this before. So earnest, so troubled, so passionate.

But….

When she looked deep within, she understood then that she couldn’t hate Kamal. He had admitted to his mistake. She’d known people who would never, ever admit that they’d screwed up. Even her own father would never acknowledge that it might have been better for both of them if they’d left Cloudcroft, rather than stay here and hang on to memories of someone who’d abandoned them years earlier.

But Kamal had made that admission. He’d stood there and confessed to his wrongdoing. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

As for the rest…she didn’t even know what to think about that. Surely he couldn’t agree with what the other djinn had done, or he wouldn’t be here with her now. He would have sought her death from the very moment he laid eyes on her.

“How many djinn think like you?” she asked at last.

He let out a breath, as if relieved that she had set aside her anger enough to ask the question. “We are called the One Thousand, because that is our number. There are some fifty of us in Taos right now, with our human partners.”

A thousand djinn, out of how many? Did it matter, though? What mattered was at least there were a thousand of these beings who believed humans were worth saving, who had defied what the majority wanted. A thousand djinn meant a thousand humans saved.

There were so many other things she wanted to know, but she supposed she would come to learn more in the days and weeks and months ahead. More about who these djinn really were, what their powers might be. She’d caught a glimpse of those powers in Kamal, in the way he’d protected her from the bear, and how he’d been able to give her hot running water here at the hotel. Well, that was something. Sarah had a feeling she wouldn’t be lacking for creature comforts in her new home.

“And is that where you want to take me? Up to Taos?”

“Yes.” His arms tightened around her, and she felt him brush a kiss against the top of her head. “It is the only place I can take you. That is part of the agreement — that we of the One Thousand live in our own communities with our Chosen, away from the rest of the djinn.”

Taos. She’d never been there. A resort town to the north, in a high valley ringed with mountains. It would be a new adventure. One of many, she supposed.

Well, she had been trying to get out of Cloudcroft….

Very gently, she pressed her lips to the bare skin of his chest, then pulled away. She knew she’d already made her decision. “All right. That is, I think I forgive you. Maybe I’m crazy, but — ”

She never got the chance to finish, for Kamal bent to kiss her, his mouth warm, insistent. A flush of desire passed over her, shocking, sudden. Obviously, her body was ready to forgive him, too.

When the kiss ended, she caught the mischievous flash of Kamal’s eyes and glanced upward. Hanging from the center of the chandelier was a large sprig of mistletoe, bound with red ribbon.

“You do think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try,” he replied. “And we shall still have our Christmas here, before I take you away to Taos. Would you like that?”

She nodded. “I would. I think it would help — having a chance to really say goodbye to everything.”

“Then you will have your chance. And we will start the new year in our new home.”

His arms went around her again, and she lifted her mouth to receive his kiss. He took her to the couch and handed a glass of wine to her. They toasted one another, and broke bread, and relaxed into one another’s company, while the white lights glittered on the Christmas tree he’d brought for her, and the portrait of Rebecca smiled at them from the foyer, a little sad, as though she knew she would soon be the only one left here, a ghost town without a true ghost.

But it would be a new beginning for Sarah and Kamal, and perhaps the world. A way for her to move forward, with the djinn who loved her at her side. And in the meantime, the past she remembered could shine brightly one last time, before its illumination was gone forever.

The End

Illuminated is only the beginning of the Djinn Wars saga. Go here to explore all the books in the series, or visit Christine’s website to see the complete selection of all her available works.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Christine Pope has been writing stories ever since she commandeered her family’s typewriter back in grade school. The author of more than seventy books, she makes her home in Arizona, where many of her novels are set.

Want to get cover reveals, sneak peeks, and inside info on Christine’s books? Join Christine Pope’s Paranormal Posse, her reader group on Facebook!

You can sign up for Christine’s newsletter here, or visit her website at www.christinepope.com.

Unwelcome Gifts

A Ruby Silver Story

Margo Bond Collins

Chapter 1

I always liked spending Christmas in the mountains.

When Trip and I got the message that there was some kind of bugaboo tearing it up in some tiny mining town in the Rockies, I was delighted for us to point the horses’ noses in that direction.

We’d been in San Antonio together, dealing with an infestation of trolls under their newest bridge. But as much as I liked Mexican food and touring the Alamo, I was looking forward to some snow.

We had to get up to Fort Worth before we could get tickets for the two of us, my horse Lakota, and Trip’s horse Bandito on a train headed toward the Rockies. As soon as we hit Fort Worth, I checked us in to spend the night in a real hotel, where I ordered a bath for the first time in weeks.

When I’d traded in my demon-hunting rifle to join up with a monster-hunting agency, it hadn’t occurred to me how dirty that kind of hunting could be. Troll killing left behind the kind of stench that you simply could not scrub away at a washbasin with a single washcloth. For that matter, I’d had a couple of dips in the San Antonio River and even had the opportunity to dump more than one bucket of well water over my hair. It still hadn’t been enough to clear away the troll stink.

But Fort Worth, for all that it was mostly a hub for cattle drives—or maybe because of that fact—had some of the best amenities to be found west of the Mississippi.

Trip was kind enough to let me use the bathwater first.

I sank into the hot, scented water up to my neck and stretched out my legs until my toes rested on the far side of the copper tub the hotel clerk had sent up to my room and had the hotel help fill.

“Read the telegram to me again,” I instructed Trip.

“Ruby, darling, I have read it to you repeatedly, despite knowing that you are quite capable of reading it to yourself.”

“One more time?”

He fished it out of the saddlebag hanging from the back of his chair. “FIRE DEMON IN LEADVILLE COLORADO STOP MEET IN HOTEL GLENWOOD DENVER SOONEST STOP CARTER CARLISLE, P.I. AGENT & GENERAL MANAGER.”

“And that’s it?” I asked for what must have been the fifth time.

“That’s all. Looks like this new outfit doesn’t give as much detail as the last one.”

Trip and I had once worked for a nationwide agency that dealt with problems of the supernatural kind. Our severed contract didn’t allow us to advertise that fact, though. Or even tell people which one. Anyway, at that time, the old company hadn’t had much competition. But since then, a couple of others had sprung up. One of them, The Psychical Investigations Agency, had approached us while we were in San Antonio with such astounding employment offers that we simply could not turn them down, particularly once they agreed to allow us to remain a team.

This would be the first case assigned to us by the new company.

I was rather looking forward to meeting with the company representative. The representative in San Antonio had demonstrated to us several surprisingly advanced—and, I hoped, effective—weapons to take into our ongoing battle with the supernatural forces arrayed against us in this world.

“Have you ever dealt with a fire demon before?” I asked Trip now, lazily running the soap up and down my arms, one after the other.

“No.” Trip’s answer was perfunctory, his attention distracted by the motion of my hands on my body.

“Do you think any of the weapons Mr. Johnson showed us would be especially helpful against one?” I ran my fingertips across my collarbone to test my emerging theory about his interest. His darkening gaze followed my hands.

“Trip, darling, do you think perhaps there is room in this tub for two?” I hadn’t even finished my question before he was standing and peeling out of his riding clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

Dear Reader, there was, indeed, room for two.

Barely.

Chapter 2

Although Mr. Carlisle had specified that he wanted us to make our way to Denver as quickly as possible, we spent a full day in Fort Worth rejoining the ranks of what passed for society in the Wild West of the 1880s. Primarily, that meant having our current clothes laundered and using some of the funds the P.I. Agency had advanced us to purchase new clothing suitable for a business meeting in a hotel in Denver.

This season’s skirt, the dressmaker had assured me, was much narrower than last season’s, and complete with ruffles and flounces and more lace than I could bear to contemplate.

Curses.

“This will take some time,” I informed Trip, who had simply placed an order with a tailor he’d used before. “Perhaps you could return in an hour or so?”

He grinned, his cheerful demeanor, as always, making me happy in return. “Of course. I’ll look in on our riding gear.”

With a tip of his hat, he departed the dress shop to attend to having all our leathers examined and repaired.

I turned to the dressmaker. “We should discuss the skirt first.”

By the time Trip returned, I had thoroughly offended the dressmaker’s sensibilities, but given a large enough financial incentive, she had sent one of her girls to fetch the local corsetière and her best seamstresses.

“What is this?” Trip asked, picking up one of several sketches from a side table next to the upholstered chairs in the dressmaker’s front room. With one forefinger, he traced the loops and pockets I’d added.

“That, my darling, is a tactical corset. I’ve just created it.”

He frowned. “I thought you hated corsets.”

“Yes. But I’m growing fond of the idea of being able to carry some of those P.I. gadgets Mr. Johnson demonstrated.”

His gaze grew heated again as he leaned in close to whisper, “I look forward to assisting you as you remove it.”

I gazed at the drawing, frowning. I had specifically designed it so as to be able to both dress and undress myself without assistance.

It won’t do to announce that.

“Shall I wrap myself in ribbons and bows for Christmas, as well?” I finally asked with a wicked smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” Trip all but growled.

Luckily for what remained of the dressmaker’s sensibilities, one of the seamstresses interrupted us at that moment. “Miz Elaine says to tell you she’ll have the dress delivered to your hotel by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.” As the seamstress retreated again to the workroom in the back, I turned to Trip. “I do believe I feel the need for another bath.”

“Bring you to a city and you turn into a pure hedonist.” His smile belied his words, though, and he practically raced me back to our room.

Chapter 3

Our new wardrobes were indeed delivered overnight, including a simple traveling dress—with a wider-than-was-fashionable skirt—I had ordered to wear on the train. It didn’t have much room for weapons, but I hoped I wouldn’t need to pull a gun on the train.

I cast a small protective field around our Pullman car as we boarded, though, just to be sure. But the trip was uneventful, other than the conductor giving me a contemptuous stare when he realized from our names on the tickets that we weren’t married. “Mr. Austin.” He paused for a long moment, examining my ticket carefully. “Miss Silver,” he finally said.

I bowed up at the expression on his face, but he left soon enough, leaving us to our luxurious private car with its red velvet upholstery and chairs that converted into beds.

“It would be simpler if you traveled under an assumed name,” Trip suggested, not for the first time. I didn’t point out, as I usually did, that Ruby Silver was an assumed name—one I had lived with for years now and had come to love.

“Perhaps,” I said aloud as it occurred to me, “you could travel under an assumed name.”

Trip’s stunned expression made me laugh aloud. “I like that idea.” I warmed to my theme. “We could be Mr. and Mrs. Silver. Trip Silver. I think that is a lovely name.”

He held his hands out in front of him as if to ward me off. “Okay, okay. I surrender. From now on, when we travel together, I shall be Mr. Trip Silver.” He stood and swept me a bow. “At your service.”

Chapter 4

The representative of the P.I. Agency met us at the hotel, in the lobby.

He stuck out his hand to Trip and tipped his hat to me. “Mr. Austin, Miss Silver. Nice to meet you. I’m Carter Carlisle, your liaison with the P.I. Agency.” Mr. Carlisle had dark blond hair and a slightly darker goatee that came to a point under his chin. He wore a bowler hat and his eyes were an odd cinnamon color glinting with golden highlights. He was tall and slender, with long arms and fingers, and he moved gracefully as he gestured for us to come with him. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to the other agents we have working on this case.”

Trip and I shot each other a glance as Mr. Carlisle turned to lead the way into one of the private meeting rooms off the lobby.

Other agents? That was a first. At least, the first in a long time. Trip and I had been paired up as partners by our former agency, but that had been over a year ago. I gave a small shrug. With the kind of compensation they were giving us, I’d be willing to work with Satan himself, almost.

And with more of us to do the job, we were more likely to finish early. I was looking forward to spending a lovely holiday season in the snowy mountains of Colorado with Trip.

Anything would be better than the previous year when we had spent Christmas day tracking down a feral werewolf and cutting off its head.

In some ways, those were the worst. Anything that used to be human and was no longer made me especially sad.

But I didn’t have time to consider that now, as we were moving directly into our meeting. I would have preferred to freshen up first, but we were, after all, on the P.I. Agency’s time.

Mr. Carter led us to a room with three other people standing around a table covered in mechanical gadgets and weapons.

“Ladies, Mr. Swansby, I am pleased to announce that Miss Silver and Mr. Austin are here. We can begin.”

He introduced us to each of the people at the table, starting with the women. At least he had good manners.

“This is Ruby Silver and her companion, Trip Austin. Mr. Austin, Miss Silver, may I introduce Hattie Hart.”

Miss Hart wore a fashionable dress in a burgundy silk, and her hair had been carefully arranged in dark ringlets around her face. She was beautiful, but her eyes were glazed over in much the same way as a trader I’d once met who had grown addicted to smoking opium on a visit to China, where they grew poppies in vast fields. I’d seen the same look in the eyes of those addicted to laudanum, as well. I would bet my Stetson—currently packed in a trunk—that she was one of those poor addicted souls. That’s why, when she murmured hello and then turned slightly to the side, gestured with one hand, and murmured “And this is…” I initially chalked it up to her addiction. It took a great deal of laudanum to produce hallucinations, from what I understood, but from the look in her eyes, I wouldn’t doubt that she had taken enough.

Mr. Carlisle turned to the couple. “This is Cole Swansby and his wife, Annabelle Swansby.”

The Swansbys looked more civilized than Miss Hart, despite her fancy clothing and carefully coiffed hair. To be fair, they looked more civilized than Trip and I did. She was several years younger than he, with hair the rich red of polished copper, emerald-green eyes, and skin so pale it looked like fine bone china. He was tall and lanky, with coal-dark hair and eyes. Their clothing was neither as fashionable nor as rich as Miss Hart’s, and yet they somehow appeared neater, less disheveled than she did. Miss Hart’s actual appearance, on second glance, was perfectly well-kept. But something about her gave the impression of being unkempt.

As the Swansbys finished greeting us, Mr. Carlisle began listing our specialties.

“Miss Hart can see and communicate with the spirit realm,” Mr. Carlisle said.

That explained much. I’d known several involuntary mediums in my time and it was a hard life, being unable to differentiate between the living and the dead, the world of matter and the world of spirit. My talents in that direction remained entirely within my conscious control, but I could imagine what it must be like to be bombarded day in and day out with the demand of the spirits.

I considered the introduction she had almost given and tilted my head to stare at the space beside her. With just a few deep breaths, I could almost see a shimmering outline of someone standing next to her.

She traveled with a ghost.

Mr. Carlisle might have introduced me to one person, but I needed to remember that anytime I spoke to Miss Hart, I was dealing with at least two people, even though only one of them was alive.

“Miss Silver is our spiritualist specialist,” Mr. Carlisle said, gesturing at me.

“What does that entail?” Mr. Swansby asked.

“It means I dabble,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. “I can control a little of the spiritual realm, cast a few spells, do a little psychometry.”

“Psychometry?” This was from Mrs. Swansby. Her voice was as sweet and gentle as her face.

“I can sometimes gain impressions from holding objects.”

She nodded her understanding.

“Mr. Austin is our specialist in magical weapons,” Mr. Carlisle said.

“Mostly that means I’m a gunslinger,” Trip said. “Ruby enspells them, I use them.”

“He also knows just about everything there is to know about what kinds of weapons you need to take down different types of supernatural creatures,” I added loyally.

“Mrs. Swansby is clairvoyant,” Mr. Carlisle continued.

“I do a little dream walking, as well,” Mrs. Swansby added. “Now that I know how to control it.” She and her husband shared a fond glance.

“And I didn’t believe in any of this until my beautiful bride proved me wrong.” Mr. Swansby put his arm around his wife’s waist and grinned. “That makes me the muscle. I don’t have any special skills. When I worked for… a different agency…I relied on the manuals they sent me. I still do, in fact.”

I narrowed my eyes. If I was parsing this out correctly, Mr. Swansby had formerly worked for the same agency we did. I asked outright, and when he said yes, I wasn’t the least bit surprised—but when Miss Hart volunteered that she, too, had been an agent for them, I blinked. Mr. Carlisle had sent recruiters all over the country to gather up disaffected agents from our previous employers, it seemed.

It made a certain amount of sense to rely on agents who had already been trained and who had field experience.

I wondered how he had found all of us so quickly.

“If you will all have a seat, we can begin.” Mr. Carlisle gestured to the chairs around the table. The men in the room waited for Mrs. Swansby, Miss Hart and me to be seated first. I made sure to leave an empty chair in between Miss Hart and me for her unseen companion, and Miss Hart shot me a thankful glance.

I took in all the gadgets on the table and stole a look at Trip and Mr. Swansby to find them doing the same. I was eager to discuss my impressions of our coworkers with Trip once we were in private. That would have to wait until after Mr. Carlisle had finished summarizing the situation, though. And definitely until after Trip had a chance to examine the weapons in detail.

“As I told you all in your telegrams, there is a demon disrupting a mining operation nearby. At first, we thought it was a fire demon, because of the various conflagrations associated with its attacks. Since then, however, we have begun to doubt our original assessment.”

“What makes you think you’re wrong?” Mrs. Swansby asked.

“Most fire demons are relatively simple—they attack with fire and little else. This one has shown a sophistication we’re unused to seeing.”

“What do we need to know to go after this demon of yours?” Trip, ever the tactician, went straight to the point.

Mr. Carlisle glanced down at the floor, an uncomfortable expression flitting across his face. “Well, first of all, you should probably know that three other agents have already gone down into the mine and tried to take this thing out.”

“What happened to them?” Mrs. Swansby sounded tentative, as if she wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer.

“We don’t know.” Mr. Carlisle’s tone was solemn. “They never returned.”

Miss Hart tilted her head toward the empty chair as if listening to something her invisible partner had to say. “Have you arranged to search for them on the spirit plane?”

“That is at least one of the reasons you’re here.” Mr. Carlisle tipped his hat to Miss Hart before addressing all of us. “This is what we know so far. At first, everyone assumed that the incidents were, in fact, typical mining accidents. Beams collapsing, a cave-in, a few other problems of the sort. But then the survivors began telling stories of voices taunting them, whispers, laughter. The miners claim the mine is haunted. So initially, another agency sent in an exorcist—a former priest.”

“And is he missing, too?” Trip asked.

“No. He’s in a mental institution.”

We glanced at one another around the table. Suddenly, it made sense that they had brought in all of us.

“Do you have any particular suggestions going in?” I worked to keep my tone steady, but I was afraid everyone would be able to hear the anxiety threaded through my voice.

“Not so much advice as a potential strategy,” Mr. Carlisle said. “That strategy is dependent upon the tools I have brought with which to equip you.”

He sat up straighter, taking on the tone of a lecturer. “Mrs. Swansby, we assume that you will attempt to dream walk before any of you to enter the mine.”

Mrs. Swansby nodded.

“Excellent. To that end, we have brought a miniaturized version of Edison’s recording phonograph. The machines are becoming popular among doctors wishing to record their patient’s discussions of their experiences, but ours is the first miniaturized version. We have discovered that when we work with dream walkers, their experiences are freshest when they first wake. We ask that you keep this at your bedside and record your impressions as you awake.”

The boxy machine he gestured toward had a small speaking horn, a recording cylinder, and several wax cylinders for recording the speaker’s voice. I had seen a recording phonograph before but had never actually used one—and never had I envisioned one that could be held in one hand.

Next, Mr. Carlisle tapped the top of a square box with a lens in front, much like the cameras I had seen photographers carry, albeit again, much smaller than the usual. “This we expect Mr. Swansby to carry. It is a portable version of an unusual photographic device—it records moving pictures as well as stills. We have sold the design of the larger version and expect them to become popular soon.”

“I assumed I would be involved in the fighting, not in simply recording it,” Mr. Swansby objected.

“We don’t expect you to hang back, certainly. You can start the machinery with this hand crank here,” Mr. Carlisle pointed at the side box, then demonstrated its use. “Once it is set to record, you secure the handle like so, flip this switch over, lock it down, and set the box aside. Retrieve it when you are finished, and we will have a visual record of what occurred.”

I didn’t want to ask if someone he sent would fetch it if none of us survived, though the thought did cross my mind.

Next, he handed us small devices, about the size of our palms, with miniature links and levers, cogs and gears. At the very top, encased in thick glass, was a lightbulb of the sort being installed in some of the more affluent neighborhoods.

“I arranged to have one of these created for each of you. It detects demonic energy.” He turned a few knobs and levers to show us how to set it to detect the energy we were interested in finding.

“To start it, you simply pull this cord here, thereby setting the parts within working, and wait for it to detect the correct demonic signature.”

“Or incorrect,” Miss Hart muttered. I held back a snicker. I suspected I was going to like her quite a bit, despite her need for laudanum.

“And when it does detect this energy?” I asked.

“The lightbulb at the top lights up.” Mr. Carlisle smiled smugly.

“It seems as if you are eliminating the necessity for us one by one,” I said. “I assume that normally, I would be designated demon detector. However, this particular machine seems to eliminate that need.”

Mr. Carlisle looked a bit abashed. “Oh, not at all. I will say, though, that I would hope someday to be able to send automatons to do this work. I would rather never lose another agent again.”

My stomach clenched at the thought, and I felt abashed at having even for an instant thought my ability to detect demons might be more important than the lives of agents.

The rest of the gadgets were weapons, pure and simple. A gun that fired bullets of pure metals, the kind that would kill most monsters. Another that used a steam reservoir to intensify the blast when it ejected the bullet. A third that shot out a stream of a sticky substance that disrupted ectoplasmic intensity. In other words, a demon-confuser. It would be up to the five of us to determine how to distribute these weapons, Mr. Carlisle explained. Except for the five demon detectors, the machines were one-of-a-kind, prototypes.

“That means they’re untested the field, doesn’t it?” Trip asked.

Mr. Swansby leaned in, his eyes narrowed, as he waited to hear the answer to Trip’s query.

“They have all been tested against the creatures they are designed to defeat.” Mr. Carlisle’s answer seemed a little too pat, too quick. It was a lawyer’s answer, not a fighter’s.

“That means you tested them against, what? Caged monsters?” Mr. Swansby raised one eyebrow.

“Yes.” I was impressed that Mr. Carlisle didn’t try to defend or explain his answer any more than that.

So we were going into the field with largely untested devices and weapons and a crew that had never worked together before. This could be interesting.

It was late afternoon by the time he had finished demonstrating how everything worked, so Mr. Carlisle suggested that we all retire to our rooms and meet the next morning, prepared to head out to Leadville, the town closest to the mine we would be entering and clearing of demons.

As we entered our room, a sudden pain shot through my abdomen. I doubled over, arms around my stomach.

“What is it?” Trip asked. “Are you okay?”

“I loathe that slang word so much. I will never be okay,” I gritted out between my teeth.

Trip snorted in surprise. “Well, you can’t be feeling too poorly, or you would not give such an answer.”

The pain passed, and I stood straight, smoothing my skirt down over my stomach. “I have a terrible feeling about this assignment,” I said.

“I do, too, my love,” Trip replied. “I do, too.”

Chapter 5

We set out the next day for Leadville, taking the train from Denver, though it had nothing of the luxury of the Pullman car Trip and I had taken from Fort Worth. The six of us, including Mr. Carlisle, boarded together.

The plan was to take rooms in the local boarding house for a week. We could stow the bulk of our equipment there, including anything we didn’t need to take up into the mountains with us. When we came back—I worked very hard not to think if we returned—we could gather our gear. It was worth it for the storage, Mr. Carlisle had announced.

“You’re not mounting an expedition to fight a demon at Christmastime because of any misguided religious beliefs, are you?” I asked Mr. Carlisle after we’d all taken our seats on the train. I had considered putting it more politely, but in the end, being blunt generally got me the answers I needed. At least so far.

Mr. Carlisle laughed aloud. “Not at all. We know as well as you do that these creatures—whatever they really are—care no more about a person’s religion than the grass or the dirt does. They seem to be creatures native to this world. I’m not sure it’s at all correct to call them supernatural, even.”

“Except, of course, that many of them do not follow the otherwise incontrovertible rules of nature,” Trip pointed out.

“The supernatural does have its own laws,” Miss Hart interjected in her slightly vacant voice.

“Indeed it does,” Mr. Carlisle murmured in a strange tone. “Indeed it does.”

Chapter 6

Leadville itself was much like every other mining town I’d been to in the Rockies, although perhaps a bit more prosperous than many. It had several storefronts, a couple of boarding houses, a saloon, and a disproportionately large number of men when compared to the number of women. There had been a time when I might have had to pull my gun on one or more of the miners who came to town to spend the money they pulled out of the ground. That hadn’t been a problem since Trip had joined me in my travels. I was glad of it, and though they didn’t realize it, the men of the town were glad, too. My most recent invention before we hit San Antonio to take out that nest of trolls had been a gadget of my own—a pistol powered by a miniature steam engine to create the kind of electric shock that would render a grown troll unconscious. I had not yet tested what it would do to a human male, but I suspected it would be particularly unpleasant.

Trip and I stowed our gear at the boarding house, where we also stabled our horses. The boarding house’s owner, Mrs. Halifax, gave us a suspicious look but didn’t say anything when Trip introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. Silver. It was all I could do to keep from laughing aloud.

When we made our way back down to the common room, Miss Hart was there, apparently whispering to herself in a corner. She glanced up to speak to us as we entered.

“We—I mean, I—am going to the saloon. Would anyone else like to join me?” She seemed a little more awake than before, and I wondered if she’d started to lay off the laudanum so as to better detect the spirits that might be around. In my experience, spirits in a place like this could often reveal more in an hour than could be learned in days of questioning the living. The dead don’t have as many secrets to hide.

Trip and I both assented without even having to look at one another. The saloon was often where we started our investigation into a new town, as well. People who were drinking were more likely to tell us what we wanted to know after they had imbibed. Also, it was the most common place for people to congregate. The others agreed to go, as well, with the single exception of Mr. Carlisle.

That evening, the last night we would ever be the same, we spent circled around a table in the saloon, telling war stories of the kind that hunters so often share. Trip and I talked the time we met in Rittersburg, Texas. He gave a description of me that was both flattering and embarrassing.

“She stood there in the middle of the street, directing a whirlwind of broken glass flying around her, and I thought she was as beautiful as any statue I’d ever seen, even when I went to Europe. And it only got better when she moved into action.”

“So you fought an earth demon there?” Cole Swansby asked.

“They don’t call ’em dust devils for nothing,” Trip joked. Neither of us mentioned the demon who had killed my first partner, Flint. Nor did we mention the church fire that had destroyed him—and come close to destroying me for years thereafter. Though this night was for bonding, those were the stories that were too personal to share.

Hattie Hart told a perfectly harrowing tale of a ghost town—a literal ghost town—where she had almost died even as some of the ghosts attempted to point her toward that which was real.

She didn’t introduce us to her spirit beau. I didn’t ask any questions about him then, but I intended to as soon as we had a spare moment.

Mr. and Mrs. Swansby talked of their first meeting, as well. She had ended up working for our former company because she had seen a flyer. Mr. Swansby, on the other hand, had been a skeptic, relying on his sense of reality to deal with issues of the supernatural. Well, that and the manuals the company had sent out. Right up until a haunted whorehouse had convinced him that the supernatural was real.

For all of us, those had been our last assignment with our former company. Soon thereafter, Mr. Carlisle’s compatriot, Mr. Johnson, had begun rounding us all up, signing us to contracts with the P.I. Agency.

“Do any of you find it odd that they would gather up our old company’s employees?” Mrs. Swansby asked.

Trip shrugged, turning out one hand. “It might just make good business sense,” he said. “Finding and hiring all of our former employer’s disaffected employees means getting people who know how to do the job. After all, they stayed alive.”

“As we all prove,” Miss Hart said.

We remained in the saloon until after sunset. Once it was completely dark outside, Hattie Hart and I glanced at each other and nodded. Without ever speaking a single word aloud, we clasped hands across the table from one another and inhaled, synchronizing our breath with each other and with the world around us.

I was shocked by how quickly my sight slipped into the spirit realm. Miss Hart was strong—stronger in this realm that I was, though my abilities were broader than hers. As soon as they realized we could see them, a score of sad-faced, gaunt, and otherwise miserable-looking men descended upon us. They stretched their hands out, begging us to take messages to the people they had loved in life.

With her hands clenched on mine, it was as if I could feel Miss Hart’s longing for the laudanum that would make it more difficult for these spirits to reach her. I suspected she hadn’t had any formal training, either. Using my spiritual mastery voice, I commanded the relicts around us to remove themselves from the earthly plane unless they had information about the haunted mine. All but three of the spirits responded to the command by leaving entirely.

“That’s better,” Miss Hart said. “Now. Tell us what you know about the haunted mine.” I examined all of the remaining spirits. One of them wore a US Marshal’s metal star… Wait. I recognized him, even having seen only a glimpse of him. Hattie’s spirit lover.

Well, then, he wouldn’t be particularly useful in this discussion. That left just the two men, both obviously miners, to discuss the haunted mine with us.

“Tell us what you know,” Miss Hart’s searching stare raked over the two specters. One of them simply stood shaking his head, as if his voice had been stripped from him. The other fell to his knees, covered his face and began weeping, crying out, “No, no. Don’t make me tell you. The horror.”

I was about to let go of Miss Hart's hands, convinced that our miniature séance had produced nothing of any value, when the Marshal stepped out from behind Miss Hart’s chair and strode over to the ghost of the miner collapsed on the floor. I watched in open-mouth amazement as he leaned over, grasped the spirit by the collar, and lifted him roughly, shaking him. “Pull yourself together, man,” Hattie Hart’s partner said. “You may have all the time the world to blubber away, but the men who are scheduled to go back down into that mine come the new year don’t. Do you want them to end up like you?”

It was truly stunning to see one spirit attack another.

“I don’t know what to do!” the miner wailed.

“Pull up a chair and tell these ladies what happened to you down there.”

The miner wiped his spectral face of its ectoplasmic tears and sat down in the equally spectral straight-back chair the ghost of the Marshal had pulled up to the table for him.

“Thank you, Grant,” Miss Hart said quietly.

I wanted to get the others involved, bring them into the circle by having them take one of my hands and one of Hattie’s. But I was afraid to let go, worried that if I did, I would lose my vision of this astounding sight.

When the miner’s spirit had seated himself, Miss Hart began asking questions. “When did you first notice something had gone awry?”

“It was the whispers. We heard them first. Then the laughter, and the voice that kept telling us we were going to die. And then some of us did.”

“Do you remember how you died?”

“I remember the beams creaking, someone yelling the tunnel support was about to give way. That’s all.”

“Had any miners died before you?” I interjected.

The specter jerked around as if startled to see me. “I did not know of anyone else who died.”

“Before the cave-in,” Hattie continued, “how long was it between the time you heard whispers and when you heard the beams start to creak?”

“A couple of days, maybe three or four, tops.”

Miss Hart and I glanced at each other. I gave my head a little shake, letting her know I had no more questions. I didn’t think the ghost had much more information to give us.

Apparently, Hattie felt the same way. “I’m going to release you now. When I do, I want you to know that you are free to go. You do not have to remain in this world.”

It was an oddly passive means of sending away a spirit, I thought. Generally, I was much more forceful in my dismissals. But the miner stood up, straightened out his rough-hewn clothes, and nodded firmly, as if he had been granted the permission he’d been waiting for. Then he turned and walked away from us, fading as he went. Within seconds, he was gone.

“Well done, my love,” the Marshal said. Unwilling to intrude, I released Miss Hart’s hands, but not before squeezing them.

When I released her, everything around me seemed to flicker as if something had rushed by me, even though I knew, logically, that nothing had. As I regained my senses in the world of substance, I realized that Trip and the Swansbys had moved from their former positions. I hadn’t been able to see them while I was focused on the spirit realm. I hadn’t even realized it, and that was new for me, as well.

“Did you learn anything useful?” Trip asked, his eyes crinkling in concern.

“You seem worried,” I murmured.

“You were in deeper than usual, and gone longer, as well.”

“I was?” I glanced around the saloon and found its inhabitants in somewhat different positions than they had been in when I began the trance with Miss Hart. “It seemed as if we were gone for only a few moments.”

“You sat stock still, holding one another’s hands and staring at each other, silent and motionless, for over an hour.”

I blinked my surprise. That suggested a deeper state than I was used to, certainly, though Miss Hart’s story of an entire ghost town engrossing her so much that she almost starved to death certainly seemed to fit with such a trance.

Trip’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t pursue the topic, turning to include everyone in our conversation and speaking to Miss Hart and me both. “Did you discover anything useful?”

“We learned the order of events,” I said. “First, there was whispering, then laughing, and then physical attacks.”

“But each attack seemed, from what I can tell, to come from objects already within the environment.” When she took less laudanum, Miss Hart was insightful.

I nodded. “The demon, whatever it is, doesn’t ever seem to touch people with its own body.”

“So it possibly has no corporeal form,” Mr. Swansby suggested.

“Or hasn’t managed to take one yet, if it has that capability,” Mrs. Swansby said.

“That’ll make it hard to shoot with most of our weapons,” Trip said.

“It’s in a silver mine, right?” I asked.

My companions nodded.

“Paranormal specters are generally repelled by pure metals. Gold, silver, and the like,” Miss Hart said.

“And iron, too, at least for the Fae,” Mrs. Swansby interjected.

“Exactly. So what is it about this creature that makes it able to exist deep inside a silver mine?” I glanced around at my companions

“Not only exist,” Mrs. Swansby said, “but function well enough to attack.”

“Unless, of course,” her husband said, “the metal is the reason that it hasn’t been able to manifest a complete body.”

I shook my head. “No. Something about this whole thing bothers me.”

“Do you think it might be like the earth demon we encountered in Rittersburg?” Trip asked.

“Possibly. I’m not sure demon was even the right word for that, whatever it was.” More than that, I was fairly certain it was the same thing that had killed Flint. I hadn’t cared what we called it at the time, not as long as I could destroy it. But now, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I would have been better off trying to learn more about it before I dispatched it.

“I have never known the spirits to survive contact with a pure metal,” Miss Hart said, her voice musing.

“I will double-check my manuals tonight to see if I can find anything like it in them,” Mr. Swansby offered.

Trip flashed him a sharp look. “Took those with you when you left, huh?”

Mr. Swansby gave a lopsided smile. “Seemed the least they owed me under the circumstances.”

“And I am planning to dream walk tonight if I’m able. Perhaps I can gather more information,” Mrs. Swansby said.

“Mind if I take a look at those manuals with you?” Trip asked, and Mr. Swansby nodded his assent.

We gathered up our belongings, paid the bartender, and headed back to the hotel. I slipped my arm through Trip’s, holding on to him as we walked along the wooden sidewalk, each wrapped in our own thoughts. The winter cold swirled around us in the darkness, and I was glad to reach the warm comfort of the hotel.

The next day was Christmas Eve. If we took a full day to get to the mine and waited to descend into it until the next day, it would be at least thirty-six hours before we encountered the demon. We needed to spend part of that time resting, if at all possible.

Chapter 7

The next morning, we all gathered for breakfast in the boardinghouse dining room.

After we had all our fill of breakfast, Cole Swansby pushed back his seat from the table. “Are you ready?” he asked his wife.

She looked pale and tired, but she nodded. “I dream walked last night.”

“What did you see?” Trip leaned forward eagerly.

“You have to understand, I’m not as good at dream walking as I am at communicating with spirits in my sleep. None of the spirits came to me, though, so all I have are the images from the dream walking.”

“Tell us.” Miss Hart’s voice was distant. I was pretty sure she’d been into the laudanum again. I hoped she would abstain during our descent into the mine.

“It was a strange dream, full of odd images. Not as clear as I would like it to have been or even as it usually is.”

“Maybe we can figure the messages out as we go,” I suggested.

“We were in a dark place, all of us. But there was another man with us—not Mr. Carlisle, but someone else. He was surrounded by stars. They spun around him and then turned into a gun. He used it to shoot a log.”

“A log?” I asked. “From a tree?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Swansby replied. “And I knew that he was saving us. He’s important. We’ll need him.”

“But it’s no one you’ve met before?” Trip frowned. “I don’t know how we’re going to find anyone else at this point.”

“If he’s meant to be with us, he will find us,” Miss Hart said.

Mrs. Swansby chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds. “And sometimes my dream walking symbols are merely symbols. He might not be a real person at all.”

“What else?” I asked.

“I dreamed of silver and iron and bronze, all braided together and wrapped around us, tying us to each other and staking us to the ground, like horses tethered. And Mr. Carlisle watched us, but no one could see him.”

We all blinked and looked at each other.

“I’m afraid none of it made sense.” Mrs. Swansby turned her eyes toward the floor.

I didn’t want to agree with her, to suggest to her that her dream walking was useless, but I feared it might be.

At that moment, Mr. Carlisle joined us.

“Is there any breakfast left?” he asked, more cheerfully than any of the rest of us had managed that morning. We pointed him toward the sideboard dishes. “I arranged to have a map of the mine sent over this morning,” he announced, possibly explaining his cheerful demeanor. “I think you should all study it.”

We spent the rest of the morning tracing the route into the mine and down to the cave in. When we were certain of our route, we made a plan for taking down the demon.

Then we separated, each to spend the remainder of Christmas Eve in our own way. Trip and I retreated to our room, taking a bottle of wine with us for our own, very private celebration.

The evening reminded me that it was important to make the most of the time we had. Every hunter knows that. And this might not be a traditional Christmas Eve, but it was the one we had, and we would delight in it while we could.

We loaded our horses and left the next morning, spending Christmas day traveling up the mountain, following the snowy path in single file. The mine wasn’t far in sheer distance, but the treacherous terrain meant that it took all day.

That night, we camped not far from the entrance to the mineshaft entrance.

I don’t think any of us slept well that Christmas night.

Chapter 8

The next morning, we gathered at the entrance to the mine. We had grown increasingly quiet that morning as we collected our gear, both standard and special issue from the P.I. Agency. Now we stared solemnly at the entrance.

“I have an idea,” I said.

“You mean other than saying to hell with it and going home?” Mr. Swansby asked with a wry grin.

“Other than that, yes. I suggest that now would be a good time to begin calling one another by our Christian names.” I paused briefly, then added more quietly, “It will make calling for each other’s attention simpler during times of danger. I’m Ruby, and this is Trip.”

“Call me Hattie,” said Miss Hart.

“I’m Annabelle, and my husband is Cole,” Mrs. Swansby supplied.

We all looked to Mr. Carlisle.

“As I will be remaining up top, you may continue calling me Mr. Carlisle.” His tone was dry, but not without humor.

“Whatever you say, boss man.” Cole Swansby settled his hat more firmly on his head.

I had opted to wear my Stetson that morning, as well. My hair was coiled up into a bun inside it. I’d learned early on that wearing my hair long provided unnecessary handholds when I was engaged in battling demons. I was glad to see that Miss Hart—Hattie—and Annabelle Swansby wore their hair up, as well.

I had also discovered, much to my dismay, that traditional clothing for ladies provided the same disadvantage. And although the slimmer skirts the dressmaker had assured me were in style at the moment would minimize the problem of additional fabric providing handholds, they simply did not afford the range of movement necessary for monster-fighting.

Therefore, today I had chosen to don my new attire, the clothing I had bought in Fort Worth. I wore a fitted shirtwaist tucked into tightly tailored trousers. These, in turn, were tucked into my boots. All of this was designed to present a silhouette with nothing to hold onto. For all that it exposed my figure to anyone who saw me wearing it, I had decided that was infinitely better than dying because some monster grabbed a ruffle and pinned me down with it.

Over all of this, I currently wore a contraption of a skirt that the dressmaker had helped me design. The petticoat was sewn in, and the entire thing tied at the waist. I could drop it to the ground with a single tug of a ribbon. Over my shirt, I wore the brown leather tactical corset. Unlike fashionable corsets, designed to draw in a woman’s waist, this one did not constrict my breathing or movement in any way, though it did conform to my shape nicely. Various loops and ties were buttoned to it, and I had discarded those I would not need on this trip, leaving them with the rest of our gear in the room in Leadville.

Now, looking at the entrance to the mine, I pulled the ties of my skirt and carefully stepped out of it. I folded it and placed it in one of my saddlebags. I gave Lakota a scratch behind his ears and murmured to him, then spoke to Mr. Carlisle. “You’ll make sure horses are well cared for if necessary?”

He nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

I turned to rejoin my companions, only to discover that both of the other women had made similar clothing arrangements. To my delight, Hattie Hart wore a pair of silk pantaloons that mimicked the line of a skirt when she stood straight—until, that is, she gathered the hems of the pant legs, tied a ribbon around them, and tucked them into her boots. Once again, her clothing was infinitely more fashionable than mine, and today, her eyes clear of the ill effects of laudanum, she looked like the woman of wealth I suspected she truly was.

Annabelle Swansby had clearly sewn her own trousers, as they were made out of the same material as the calico dress she had worn the night we went to the saloon. But she had chosen to wear something very much like a cowboys’ riding leathers over her calico trousers. A woman in chaps. It was a glorious sight to see.

All three of us wore gun belts strapped around our waists.

The more time I spent around these women, the more I liked them. The two ladies examined my tactical corset with great interest.

Together, the three of us marched back to the opening the silver mine, where Trip and Cole Swansby waited.

“Merry Christmas, y’all,” Trip said with a mischievous grin. “Shall we?”

Bidding farewell to Mr. Carlisle, we began our descent.

Only a few yards into the silver mine, the entrance tunnel took a turn, cutting off most of the light from outside. Cole had already lit a lantern, and he held it high to illuminate the path in front of us.

The air was dank and cold, and I shivered.

“Cole, do you have a map of the mine? The one Mr. Carlisle gave us?” Mrs. Swansby asked.

He fished in his pocket and pulled it out.

We had all studied it the night before, of course, but it was reassuring to have it in front of us, to know that we would be able to find our way out again. We followed the main tunnel down, down, down.

We left a spell on each of the various side tunnels as we passed. At every intersection, we stopped. Trip marked the tunnel with an anti-demon sigil, I closed my eyes and chanted a quick containment spell, then pressed my hand to the mark to empower it.

Time stretched out, seeming to expand, to last longer than the time my pocket watch showed had actually passed.

When we spoke, it was in whispers, as our voices echoed uncannily, coming back to us distorted and somehow more terrifying than any independent sound would have been.

We had agreed to get as close to the sight of the first cave-in as we possibly could. If the demon had been there once, it might make a repeat appearance.

As we drew closer to that site, I began to hear faint echoes of whispers. At first, I thought it was maybe my imagination, but the whispers grew louder and more pronounced.

Eventually, Annabelle said, “Does everyone else hear that?”

We all nodded as the voices kept up their gibbering whispers.

And then the path we had followed opened up into a huge, echoing chamber. The cavern floor dropped away from one side of the path, leaving only darkness above and below. It was impossible to tell how deep or how high the chamber was, but the path cut across one side of it and led even farther down.

We were halfway across when Hattie Hart gasped and cried out inarticulately.

Chapter 9

Almost immediately following Hattie’s cry, a harsh masculine yell echoed through the chamber. We all jumped and turned around in different directions, searching for its source.

I concentrated, and to one side of us, the shape of Hattie’s beau appeared, pinned to the ground by the claws of something immense, but otherwise unseen, its legs leading up into the darkness of the cavern around us.

Hattie started toward him, and I grabbed her arm. “It’s not real,” I urged her to remember. “It’s part of the spirit realm.”

“I know,” Hattie said, her voice strained. “But it’s hurting him.”

“I see it, too,” I said. “But you know that it is not real.” I emphasized every word.

But then, Trip spoke. “Um, Ruby?” His voice sounded more tentative than usual. “I see it, too.”

I spun around and stared at him. “What? You can see it?”

“Help me,” groaned the man on the floor.

One of the claws lifted almost delicately and pierced his upper arm. He let out a howl.

“I see it, too,” said Cole.

“And hear it,” his wife added. Glancing around the floor beneath my feet, I scooped up a handful of pebbles, took aim, and tossed them at the figure pinned to the ground.

“Ouch.” The man flinched away. He clearly felt the impact of the rocks.

“He’s corporeal,” Cole said, his voice full of awe.

“Oh, holy hell.” Trip followed up the comment with a low whistle.

“What are we dealing with?” Annabelle asked, her eyes wide.

I glanced at Hattie, who had said nothing during all of this. Her face had gone as pale as Annabelle’s was by nature, the skin stretched taut over her face, her mouth pinched and tight.

“Tell me what to do.” Her voice was husky, as if she were about to cry.

“If he’s real, we have to save him,” Annabelle said.

I glanced down at the demon detector in my hand. The lightbulb had not lit up as Mr. Carlisle had assured us it would in the presence of demonic energy. Trip noticed the direction of my attention.

“Maybe some sort of golem?” he guessed.

“I think the man is Hattie’s companion—her spirit guide.”

Hattie nodded and whispered his name. “Grant Madsden.” Her voice grew stronger. “It is. It’s him. He disappeared from my side and reappeared there. I know it’s really him. I can feel it.”

“But I think you might be right about the claws, Trip,” I continued. We all stared at the scaly legs that disappeared high into the dark recesses of the open cavern space above and below the trail we were on. “I believe they’re a construct of some kind.”

“I don’t think those are real—not in the sense of being attached to an animal or a demon,” Cole said.

Annabelle nodded. “That’s the man I saw in my dream. That’s him.”

“Then we are going to need him,” her husband said. He and Trip glanced at one another, and each pulled out one of the weapons Mr. Carlisle had given us. In his other hand, Trip drew his normal revolver—or rather, his usual one. I had enspelled it so often that it was certainly no longer normal by any stretch of the imagination.

“Cover your ears, ladies,” Cole said—an unnecessary reminder, as we all had already done so. We were none of us greenhorns.

They let loose with a hail of bullets cutting across the creature’s claws—or the creatureless claws—in a straight line at what would have been the wrist on a human. The claws didn’t react at all, further cementing my opinion that they were some kind of animated construct rather than a living being. And when they were severed from the rest of the hand, the entire construction simply crumbled away into nothing, leaving only Hattie’s beau. She ran to him, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around him.

She helped the injured Marshal to his feet, his damaged arm pulled in close to him.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“Yes. But I’m confused. What just happened?” he asked.

“We need to bandage that arm,” Annabelle suggested, pulling a roll of fabric out of the pockets of her calico trousers.

I explained my theory that the demon had somehow managed to transform him into a corporeal person again in order to distract us. He listened as Annabelle wrapped the bandage tightly around the wound, stanching the blood flow until we could get out of here and take better care of it later.

Hattie kept patting him, moving her hands along his face and torso as if reassuring herself that he was real. “Is this going to last?”

She hadn’t directed the question to anyone in particular. I answered it, anyway. “Who knows? He’s here now, and we can use his help. The demon might have given us an advantage he didn’t mean to.”

“He needs a weapon,” Hattie said.

I turned to Trip and pointed at the single non-P.I.-agency, non-enspelled gun in his arsenal. “I think we should give him that one to carry.”

Trip’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to read my mind. “Afraid to have someone with a demon-created body carry a spelled weapon?”

“Something like that.” Really, I was concerned that Federal Marshal Grant Madsden, for all that he seemed real and on our side, might not be what he said he was.

So we gave him a gun. But not one of the more powerful ones, just in case.

The eight of us continued our descent into the darkness.

Chapter 10

Along the way, we continued to mark the tunnels leading off the main descent into the cavern.

When we came upon the cave-in, it was sudden. It happened not inside a giant echoing chamber, as I had assumed, but in a cramped tunnel, a narrow spot in the path down, which made me wonder again about the demon’s strength. He was strong enough to pull a ghost out of the ether and make him corporeal, but not strong enough to create a monstrous dragon—he was only able to create claws.

My guess was that without an original form to use as a pattern, such as the ghost’s former body, the demon had no way to create and animate a creature.

Similarly, I suspected he didn’t have much ability to toss rocks around inside the cavern. He had managed only to pile up the loose ones and fill up this narrow passage.

“I don’t think this demon is as powerful as the P.I. Agency thinks it is,” Trip said, echoing my thoughts as he so often did.

“Let’s move back up the path, away from the cave-in, and work there,” Cole suggested.

“Hattie, are you okay?” Trip shot me a look for using the slang word I had so despised in his own language. I ignored him. I might eventually have to admit that okay was a useful word.

Hattie looked up at me and nodded, then turned her attention immediately back to Grant.

Annabelle and I traded glances. I didn’t know if we would be as strong without Hattie, but I wasn’t sure we could count on her full attention and participation, either. Not as long as Grant was in pain.

Our plan was fairly simple. We would summon the demon, force it into its own corporeal form, trap it, and kill it.

Simple in theory, anyway. There were a lot of pieces to it, and it would take more power than I liked to consider. Still, it was a solid plan.

I hoped.

Chapter 11

We moved far enough back from the cave-in that we couldn’t see it any longer, choosing a wide spot in the path to do our work and make our stand. I immediately began drawing sigils on the beams holding up the ceiling. Trip and Cole consulted over one of the manuals Cole had taken from our former employer.

“Can I help you?” Annabelle asked, glancing at Hattie, who still hovered around the very real form of Grant Madsden.

“Yes, please.” I showed her where to mark and how to draw the sigils I needed. Once she took over wielding the chalk, I followed along behind her, reinforcing the structural support with magic.

“You always could twist the company-approved spells into something better,” Trip said, moving away from Cole and toward me.

“That’s nice work,” Hattie said from directly behind me.

I jumped a little—I hadn’t heard her move closer to me—but said, “Thanks.”

A cold wind blew through the cavern, raising goosebumps on my arms. It was followed almost immediately by the sound of whispers echoing in the dark.

“Anyone else feel like we’re in a Beadle’s Dime Novel?” Cole asked, but his good humor was more strained than usual. The constant darkness, the cold, the strange noises—they were getting to all of us.

“Let’s begin,” I said.

Grant moved to set up the recording device Mr. Carlisle had given him. It fit neatly on a tiny natural shelf in the cavern. He directed it at the spot we had chosen to contain the demon.

Carefully, Annabelle and I used Trip’s chalk and sketched out a pentagram on the floor with enough room at its edges for a person to stand or walk by. Then we enclosed the symbol in a circle.

From my pack of magical supplies, I pulled out a smudge stick—a bundle of sage. I lit the end, blew on it gently, then tapped out the active flame in a brass bowl I brought with me. I handed the bundle to Annabelle and pulled out a jar of sea salt. I was guessing that was something a demon up here in the Rockies didn’t encounter often. I began walking along the edge of the circle around the pentagram, pouring out salt crystals as I went. Annabelle followed behind me, waving the smudge stick up and down through the air around the circle.

When we were done, the air in the cavern was hazy with smoke and the beginnings of magic.

I had planned to ask everyone to join the circle, but Grant Madsden’s addition to our group had changed the magical calculus. I needed to find out what I could do with him. And more important, whether we could trust him.

I moved to the wall where he and Hattie sat, their foreheads leaning together as they whispered. I crouched down beside them. Holding my hand out to him, I said, “Will you let me read you?”

He glanced at Hattie, who nodded.

They both stood, and Grant held his hands out to me.

I took his hands in mine, and they felt perfectly normal. Perhaps a little clammy, but that could be caused by pain or anxiety.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and allowed my magical senses to open fully for the first time since we had entered the mine.

All around us, I could sense the silver the miners were after. It stretched out in veins that stood out in shining lines to my inner sight. The glowing metal ran like roots through the earth. There was still plenty here to be mined.

But at the center of the mine sat a darkness, a brooding entity, malevolent and foul.

I didn’t know if it was the demon, or if the demon was merely connected to it. In any case, I pulled my consciousness back from the malevolence, not wanting to draw more of its attention than we already had by our mere presence. Instead, I focused on this wide spot in the downward path, this space only, with its five other people showing up as flares of self-awareness, brighter than any metal could ever be. Hattie Hart’s joy at Grant’s presence blazed from her in a bright red, shot through with streaks of gold. Annabelle Swansby’s aura was the blue of the turquoise stones I’d fallen in love with when I had come to the West. Her husband’s was the green of summer grass. They were the perfect complements for each other, and I could see the way their power drew from each other.

Trip looked as he always looked in my magical sight. His aura was the gold of protection, his role in the world perfectly aligned with his spirit.

I glanced down at myself. My own aura to my eyes appeared purple, as it often did—although since I had connected with Trip, it was beginning to be shot through with gold streaks as we became more intertwined, and as I learned to continue to protect him. And if I looked closely, purple streaks were beginning to appear in his, as well.

I turned my magical gaze to Grant. His aura, like Trip’s, had the gold of protection, but it was a rose gold, the perfect combination of the red that flared from Hattie and the gold of their protective connection.

I drew my magical sight back inward, closing my eyes and allowing my other senses to quest outward.

I knew what I was about to do was invasive, and under any other circumstance, I would have avoided it. But I needed to know more about Grant Madsden.

I inhaled and pushed against him with my magic, shaping it into a spiritual spear that I drove through Grant’s chest to read him.

As if it were coming from a distance, I heard Hattie protest, heard a scuffle as Trip and Cole held her back from interfering.

Grant grunted but made no other noise. His hands tightened on mine, but otherwise, he simply waited as I read him.

He was real, and he was who he said he was.

And he loved Hattie.

If the demon had planted anything evil inside him, it was buried deeper than I could find. I pulled the magical spirit-spear from him and dissolved it back into myself.

Dropping his hands, I opened my eyes and said, “He’s one of us. We can begin.”

Perhaps I should not have wasted any of my magical energy that way, but I knew we couldn’t go into creating a spell against the demon unless we had that information. And I heard several small sighs of relief from the other members of the party, too.

We gathered in a circle around the enclosed pentagram, reaching out and taking each other’s hands. Six isn’t any kind of magical number. We didn’t have any advantage in that sense.

But we came carrying powerful weapons and equally powerful magic.

The last time Trip and I had killed a demon, we had trapped it in a circle like this, held it steady there while we shot it full of silver bullets. I was hoping for a similar outcome here.

But first, we had to summon it and bind it in our circle. As we had planned, Hattie and Annabelle and I began working to send our magic flowing through our hands. We sent the power coursing through us, clockwise around our circle, or deasil, as my grandmother had called it as she taught me the old ways of magic use.

I felt the power as it poured through us, moving faster and faster with each revolution around our circle. Next to me, Trip stiffened as the power hit him, gathering up what natural talents he had in that direction and flinging it into me.

As it went through us, the magic left behind an almost electrical charge. All the hairs on my arms stood up straight, and what little loose fabric I wore floated upward. A silent wind whipped around the cavern, and in the distance, I heard the deep moan of the demon resisting being called.

Hattie began to chant to force him into our circle. We used different magical languages, but it didn’t matter. It was important to share meaning, not language. And in this, our wills were united. I added my incantation to hers. In a few moments, I heard Annabelle began to speak as well, I thought in English, but I wasn’t certain—I was too deep into my spell to hear anything more than the cacophony of voices that blended into harmony as our magic combined.

Inside the containment circle, a shape began to form. It pulled against us, even as the men added their voices to the holding spell.

Whatever this demon was, it was stronger than I had anticipated. I couldn’t reconcile the evidence we had with the feeling of its power against me—and I didn’t have time to think about it right now. After it had been vanquished, I would consider what I might be learning now.

Inside the circle, it coalesced from mist into a shape that seeped out of the rock itself, flowing up out of the ground, its shape vaguely human but covered with scales, its face contorted with anger.

And I recognized it.

“Damnation,” Trip breathed out. Apparently, he recognized it, too.

This demon was the same one he and I had killed—thought we had killed—in Rittersburg.

But surely not. Perhaps these demons had similar forms? I glanced at Trip, my voice faltering as he raised one shoulder and a shrug, his eyes crinkled in concern.

And then the demon laughed. Not the same kind of laugh it had used earlier as part of its whisperings. This one was a deep, full belly laugh—a villainous laugh.

“I see you got my message.” Its voice was rough, deep, and triumphant.

Our chanting stuttered to a stop, but it was okay. Our circle was set. The demon was trapped.

“Message?” Annabelle asked.

Trip shook his head. “Don’t respond to it,” he reminded everyone.

“But we have so much to say to one another,” the demon said. “We didn’t have a chance to speak last time we met.”

Dread speared me through the stomach. It was the same demon.

“Then again, perhaps I should simply kill you all,” it hissed.

Forcing myself to avoid even looking at it, I pulled my pistol, loaded with silver bullets, from my holster.

“Everyone move to this side,” Cole ordered, taking over the operation, just as we had agreed.

“So you come to do battle on your holy day?” Its voice took on the cadence of many voices, its tone one of pure malignance.

We continued to ignore it.

All six of us gathered together on one side of the demon, on the side of the circle closest to the exit. As we prepared to fire, though, the ground inside the circle cracked. The pentagram we’d so carefully drawn broke down the middle, the edges of the circle falling apart from one another as a chasm grew in the trail. And the demon let out a horrific laugh.

We all opened fire at once. As a silver bullets hit it, the demon jerked and jumped. But he did not fall.

The dread in my stomach turned to utter terror as the monstrous creature in front of me grew bigger, more solid than I had ever seen any demon look before.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” it said pointing first to me and then to Trip. “You spoiled my fun. You destroyed one of my forms. And you will pay.”

Grant Madsden had come to stand beside me, and I handed him my pistol. “It’s loaded with silver bullets. Use it.”

I began calling up more of my magic, but this time, I had another idea. If the silver inside the mine could weaken the demon, we needed to use it. I couldn’t say anything aloud to Hattie Hart or Annabelle Swansby, but they had already given what magic they possessed to our circle.

If I could get to that magic, I could use it.

I concentrated, trying to drag out what was left in the circle we’d drawn.

“I know what to do,” I whispered to Trip. “Protect me.”

But before I could gather enough magic, the demon sent another crack through the floor, knocking us off our feet. A giant wind from the bowels of the earth blew over us, hot and sulfurous smelling. I knew why they thought it was a fire demon now. The air whipping around us sent my hat spinning across the room, pulled my hair out of its bun and sent it flying around my face. I fought to concentrate, even as I realized the demon was using the air to slow down the bullets being fired at him. I crawled up toward the entrance, knowing that it was far too far away for me to make it if we didn’t take out the demon now.

Hattie screamed something, but I couldn’t make it out. All three of the men continued to rain bullets onto the creature, but he deflected them with a single flick of his hand.

The demon’s next words were spoken as if directly into my mind.

Fight me on your holy day? Let me bestow gifts on you. A chill wind blew through the cave, and I shivered.

Merry Christmas.

It was as if I had been flattened to the ground by a giant hand holding me down and sending bright sparks of pain through me. It ripped into my mind, and my vision grayed out for several seconds. I could feel the demon rifling through my thoughts, and I shoved my plan down as far as I could, erecting a wall around it, concentrating on the pain to block out what he wanted to know.

He almost got it. But I deflected all the pain into repeating my name. “Ruby Silver, Ruby Silver, Ruby Silver. Mr. and Mrs. Trip Silver.” I repeated the words to myself over and over again until I heard the demon laughing wildly.

Ruby Silver. Demon hunter. This is your curse. Forevermore to be trapped in this land you profess to love. To be unable to use the metal that is your namesake. To be Called, forced to hunt the very monsters you wish to kill. To live the life you think you want—but without reprieve. So mote it be.

I didn’t even know exactly what it meant. But I felt his curse slam through me. It left me retching on the floor of the cavern.

I managed to stand. When I dropped the wall around the intention I had formed, it shot out of me like a bullet from a gun, gathering the silver ore I sensed feel in the earth all around me.

I had barely enough presence of mind to scream, “Run!”

My five companions didn’t hesitate.

As I said, we were none of us greenhorns.

I’d ripped the silver out of the mountain itself, wrapping it around the demon in strings of molten metal. I didn’t know how I was melting it, but I burned along with it. As I handled the silver with my magic, it burned into me, leaving my hands blistered and steaming. The blisters crawled up my arm until I almost blacked out with the pain.

The next thing I knew, Trip and Cole had me into their arms and were dragging me up the path, Grant following close behind. I caught a glimpse of the other two women up ahead.

The demon howled from inside its silver bindings. Maybe we couldn’t kill it with silver bullets, but we could by God—or at least by magic—hold it in place.

The last thing I saw as we retreated was Cole’s recording device ticking away on the shelf where he’d left it.

“Ruby,” Tripp said intensely, “I need you to take the supporting spell off the beams ahead of us as we pass them. Can you do that?”

“I think so.” My throat was raw, my voice scratchy. When we got to the supports, Trip said, “These, my love. I need you to take the magic spell off of these.” I nodded, but my hands throbbed in agony. I glanced at them once, then decided it didn’t matter. I reached out to touch the beam with one hand, and the blisters broke open at the contact. As I pulled the magic back into myself, I whimpered, but I didn’t stop.

“It’s down,” I finally said.

“That’s the point, right there,” Grant Madsden said, pointing at a spot on the beam. “If we concentrate our firepower there, we can bring the entire thing down.”

Trip turned to Annabelle. “Take her out of the cavern with you?” He pointed his chin at me even as he readied his weapons.

Annabelle nodded, but I said, “Wait,” and turned to Hattie. “Come on,” I urged her.

“I won’t leave him.”

“Grant will follow us,” I promised, praying I was right.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she nodded and came with us.

We began moving as quickly as we could, retracing our steps. I realized that the blisters on my body extended to my feet, as well, but there was no time to stop.

I glanced back once to see the three men shooting at the ceiling. At least one of them was using bolts of anti-ectoplasmic energy from one of the P.I. Agency’s guns.

The creaking, rumbling sound began deep under our feet, and despite the painful blisters inside my boots, I picked up the pace, running as hard and as fast as I could to reach the entrance. We stumbled out into the snow and starlight, the noise of the mine collapsing following us every step of the way. We backed away from the entrance but turned to watch anxiously, waiting for the men we loved to follow us out.

Cole and Trip stumbled out together, coughing as they came. I dropped to my hands and knees and buried my arms in the snow, sighing in relief as the icy coldness took away some of the heat from my burned hands.

But Hattie was still waiting for Grant. “Where is he?” she all but screamed.

“He was right behind us,” Cole said.

A giant plume of dust erupted from the entrance, and we all stumbled farther back from the tremors it caused. Hattie dropped to her knees with a wail, only to scramble back to her feet when Grant staggered out, a handkerchief held over his mouth. Behind him, the mine entrance filled with rocks, sealing it shut.

For the first time since we’d emerged, I thought to look around for Mr. Carlisle, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Everything else was as we left it.

Chapter 12

“Should we look for him?” I asked later that night as we sat around a fire we’d built partway down the trail, away from the mine entrance. Hattie had given me a small spoonful of her laudanum, and for the first time since we’d left the mine, I wasn’t in pain.

Cole shook his head. “The demon said we got his message. I think Mr. Carlisle might have been the demon’s messenger.”

“That would explain the rest of my dream,” Annabelle said.

“So does the P.I. Agency even exists?” Trip asked.

“Maybe in the same way I do?” Grant suggested.

I shook my head. “No. You are as real as you were before you died.” I was certain of that after my magical tour of Grant’s mind and heart. “We don’t have any assurance that Mr. Carlisle was real in any way.”

“And what did the demon mean when he said I was cursed?” Hattie asked. “Did anyone else hear that? Was that for all of us?”

I held my hands out. “He said I was cursed to react to silver. This happened when I bound him with the silver I pulled out of the mine—and that was without even touching it.” I turned to Trip, ready to test my theory. “Hand me one of the silver bullets.”

He looked surprised. “You sure about this? He told me I was cursed, too.”

“I’m sure.”

He reached into his saddlebag to take one of the bullets out. Even from where I sat across the fire from him, I could hear the sound of sizzling when his skin touched the special ammunition. He jerked his hand back with a yelp.

“Let me,” Cole said. He pulled the bullet out without any problem whatsoever and handed it to me. My skin sizzled, too, and I dropped it instantly.

“He told me I was iron-cursed,” Hattie said.

“And you?” I asked the Swansbys.

“Bronze,” they said in unison.

“There was more, too,” Grant said. “Something about being forced to hunt monsters?”

“And that I’d be confined to the land I’ve chosen,” Cole added. “What does that even mean?”

We all stared at each other for a long, silent moment. I didn’t want to voice my theory. But I suspected I would never again leave the West.

Cole finally spoke. “I’m not sure, but it can’t be anything good.”

“It means we’re cursed,” Hattie said. “We will have to spend the rest of our lives dealing with the curse that was just put on us.”

I couldn’t imagine what that meant. But I knew that I needed to get away from this place. “Whatever it is, we can deal with it tomorrow. Right now, we need to get back down the mountain.”

“As soon as the sun rises. We don’t want to risk taking the horses down the mountain in the dark.” Grant spoke with the easy authority of a federal Marshal.

“I’ll take first watch,” Cole said.

But none of us slept that night. As soon as the gray light of dawn brightened the skies enough for us to see—enough to make sure our horses didn’t break their legs or necks on the way down—we mounted up silently, gathering what was left of our supplies and our weapons.

The future was uncertain.

Then again, it always was.

Trip and I would continue to face it together, no matter what happened. And now, it looked like, we had four other people we could call on in times of need—not counting the P.I. Agency itself, assuming it actually existed.

We might be cursed, but I didn’t believe in curses that couldn’t be broken. We just had to figure out how.

For now, though, I had to keep hoping that we would eventually, somehow, rid ourselves of these unwanted gifts.

We pointed our horse’s noses back down the mountain and rode as quickly as we could back to Leadville, planning to leave on the first train out of the mining town.

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About the Author

USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and New York Times bestselling author Margo Bond Collins is a former college English professor who, tired of explaining the difference between "hanged" and "hung," turned to writing romance novels instead. Sometimes her heroines kill monsters, sometimes they kiss cowboys or aliens. But they always aim for the heart.

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Cursed By Christmas

Dynasty of Blood Saga: A Christmas Story

Stephany Wallace

About Cursed by Christmas

I thought making it through Christmas Eve was going to be easy…

What the hell was I thinking? I should have known that with a brand-new empire under my ruling, an evil Witch not on the guest list, a Gargoyle Shifter, Vampire Slayers, and humans all in the crazy mix that was my family, things would be everything but perfect.

Whoever said Happily Ever After was the end, clearly didn't know any Vampires.

The question remains, will we survive this party, or be forever changed by it?

Chapter 1

Cetatea din Dracul—The Fortress of the Dragon.
Transylvania, Romania…

COUNTESS DARIAH

Snow peaked mountains stretched over the horizon as I stood on the balcony of our palace, looking out onto my kingdom.

A million snow covered roofs peppered the cities in the distance as far as my eye could see, contrasting beautifully against their red brick facades and reminding me of sweet peppermint candy. One by one, twinkly Christmas lights began to shimmer over the houses and through their windows, announcing the night had begun to fall.

It was officially Christmas Eve.

I had never really considered myself to be a Christmas person, you know, with being a ruthless bloodsucking Vampiress, yah? At least not during what I now called the years of darkness, when my identity was stolen from me, the truth about my life hidden for what seemed like an eternity—not a term an immortal Vampiri would ever use lightly. We knew the real meaning behind forever.

And yet, as I glanced over the lands that witnessed my parents fall in love, creating a legend that would change the course of our world, an air of accomplishment, happiness, and even hope illuminated my being. This land had seen me grow up among people who swore to protect me, and who risked anything, even when I unknowingly declared them my enemies. When I couldn’t remember they were actually my family.

My kingdom had suffered under the betrayal of blind ambition, fear, discrimination, and greed, but it had also been witness to the power of love and truth. A year ago, I had reclaimed my legacy, my birthright, supported by the very family I had once forgotten, and by a man who changed my life in every possible way.

Now, after a year of fighting the remnants of the despicable poison the Străbun Dynasties had spread, we were truly free, and the Adevărată Imperiu—the True Empire was alive once again.

It hadn’t been easy to unite the Vampir race after the war, to show them life in peace with the humans was possible, but we had done it. The family I had chosen to be part of my life and I had accomplished it together.

Strong arms wrapped around my body from behind just as a chilled breeze swept by me, and goosebumps erupted along my skin, spreading all over my body. Though I wasn’t entirely sure which of the two had caused it.

That was lie. It was Mathew. It was always Mathew.

“You know what I’m craving?” his deep and delicious voice asked in my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below, making me shiver.

“A spiced peppermint mocha with whipped cream?” I teased. “Because I could really go for one of those.”

Mathew’s chest shook against my back with his earthy laughter, delighting me, and sending a bout of happiness through me. His large hands gripped my waist instantly, turning me around to face him.

Eagerly, my arms wrapped around his neck and I pulled him close, letting him claim me with an enticing kiss. Mmm… “Maybe I am craving the same thing you are.” My lips curled into a sinful smirk as I glanced up to look at him.

“Good answer, baby.” Giving me a naughty, crooked smirk, he leaned down to kiss me again and my chin lifted to meet him.

The sound of flapping wings echoed around us that instant, their movement creating a wind burst so strong that it forced us against the wall. We turned around to see the large Gargoyle Shifter gliding towards us with his Dragon-like wings.

“Hi, Ivas,” I greeted, my voice reflecting the love I felt for the one being that had been with me unwaveringly through my darkness, protecting me, and being my loyal companion even when I didn’t know who I was.

To anyone other than us, his presence would incite fear. My Gargoyle was what many would call a creature of nightmares, with a body that resembled that of a man—though he had no private parts—a bald head with a beak-like mouth, Vampir fangs jutting from it, sunken empty eyes, and pointed ears. Clawed fingers extended from his hands, large wings, and even a crest atop the center of his head, that like his other traits, reminded you of a Dragon.

Ivas’ smooth leathery skin shone under the sconces of the fortress when he landed on the balcony, wobbling when he used his wings to come to us, like extra legs.

Sitting before us in a crouch, he rested both hands on the ground between his feet, and nudged Mathew’s palm with his head—asking for his caress. Ivas might look like he’d escaped a nightmare, but he was as sweet and loyal as a puppy.

Unless you wanted to hurt me or my family in any way, then he would rip you apart without hesitation. No, I was not exaggerating.

“Hiii…” The strung-out word left his throat while my husband stroked his crest, and Ivas’ eyes fell closed, fully enjoying it.

“You are so spoiled,” I called to him, and saw him open his eyes again, now engulfed in a soft green light thanks to my husband’s warrior magic coursing through him.

“Loove…” my Gargoyle added in his guttural voice and came to me, wrapping both arms around my waist in a hug.

“I love you too, my beautiful boy.” I stroked his crest, placing a kiss on it.

“Sometimes I think he loves you more than I do, baby. I’m getting jealous.”

A heartfelt smile curved my lips and I nodded. “Exactly, so you better keep up.”

“Baaaby…” Ivas repeated my husband’s endearment for me, and we both chuckled. So far, he could say love, family, hi, hungry, sleepy, no, Daddy, and now baby. After Mathew came into our lives, he began to slowly learn how to speak, and that was his latest accomplishment.

“Daaaddy…” Hugging my husband, he assured he cared for him too, and stepped back.

“Were you flying around the kingdom for fun, sightseeing?” I asked, and saw him nod, ruffling wings behind him while he looked up at both of us. Whenever he stood to his full height, Ivas was taller than any of us, but crouching like he was at the moment, it was easy to be tricked.

Though to be fair, it wasn’t hard being taller than I. Still, I was little but fierce.

“That’s nice. Why don’t you go take a little nap? You must be tired, and there are a lot of people coming to meet you tonight. You are so special that they all want to see you. Don’t worry, Mommy and Daddy will be home when you awake. We are not going anywhere.”

It felt like the assurance was needed, he’d been extra protective of me in the past few months.

His head tilted to one side, and he blinked, considering my suggestion. Finally nodding, Ivas shot to the sky, flying towards the bell tower on the right side of our castle. He landed on the tower, resuming his usual post as he perched on the edge with his Dragon-like wings closed behind him, clawed hands rested between his feet in front of him. Slowly, he transformed before our eyes. Ivas’ smooth leathery skin disappeared, replaced by a grey, stony, aged exterior, and he reduced in size until he was nothing more but a beautiful and menacing Gargoyle statue atop the fortress.

“So, where were we?” I asked, glancing at my husband, and a naughty smirk captured his expression.

Pulling me up, he carried me back into the room and let me fall on the bed, grinning when I slightly bounced on the pillow top.

“Now that’s what I like to hear…” He climbed onto the bed like a sexy predator, and slowly pulled off his shirt, sending all kinds of tingles down my body with his enticing approach. The origin runes on his chest ignited in a soft emerald light, illuminating every rippling muscles as his Nyvith magic awoke.

Who would have thought I’d end up with a mystical Vampir slayer?

“Why Nerdy Professor Sexy,” I faked gasped, using the endearment that reminded us of his once human life. “If I had realized that you had such deliciously naughty moves the first time I saw you, I would have snatched you up right away.”

“Is that so?” he asked, amused, laying against my body while his lips immediately searched for my neck.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Well, let me let you in on a little secret. I have moves you have yet to discover.” My husband’s mint-green eyes bore into mine, and I raised a single eyebrow, challenging him.

“Really?”

“No. I only have the five moves you already know. I’m still a nerd, remember? You are expecting too much of me.”

Laughing, I pulled him down; it was my turn to claim him… but a knock came at the door.

“Seriously?” Mathew half grunted as he lunged for my neck again, and my lips twitched.

“Who is it?”

“Dove! I got your dress for tonight.”

Grinning, and with renewed excitement, I pushed Mathew out of the way and hurried to the door, swinging it open. “Show me.”

“Be careful, Sister. Its already steamed and I don’t want you to wrinkle it,” Dove instructed, handing me the huge garment bag and entering the room. She had on an elegant royal blue jumpsuit that complemented her fair skin, aqua eyes, and long mahogany black hair perfectly.

I had always prided myself on my good taste, but no one knew fashion like Dove did.

Her brows wrinkled when she glanced towards the bed, to find my husband half strewn on the mattress like his life had no meaning anymore. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You just interrupted his sexy time,” I admitted, trying to repress a smile while I made my way to the closet.

“Oh, please. Men are so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been married an entire year and you still hump like rabbits. That’s enough. Calm yourselves down.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that we are still in the honeymoon stage,” Mathew defended, sitting up, while amusement shone in his eyes. “Besides, you and Alfie are the same way,” he challenged knowingly.

Alfie, Mathew’s best friend and Léonie, lovingly nicknamed Dove, had fallen head over heels since the first moment they saw each other. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to smile and give him the win.

“Also, I may be married but I’m only nineteen,” I reminded her, hanging the garment bag on the closet door, and began to unzip it.

“Eternally nineteen,” my chosen sister clarified.

“I hardly see the difference.” I gave her a one-shoulder shrug and she laughed.

“Why did you need to bring the dress now, anyway?” Mathew protested, standing from the bed after finally giving up on any hopes of us taking a sexy nap. “The party isn’t for like another three hours.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “Three hours?! How could I be so distracted? I have to start getting ready.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Dove threw her arms in the air. “Forget about checking out the dress, it’s perfect. Trust me. Just go shower and do your hair, I’ll do the same and come back to help you with your makeup.”

The door closed as I took a set of lingerie from the drawer, a robe, and rushed to the bathroom.

“Can I at least join you in the shower?” my poor frustrated husband called after me, and I threw a naughty glance at him over my shoulder.

“Frankly, Mathew. Is there any other way for me to bathe?”

Chapter 2

“Now, that’s a dress.” Mathew whistled appreciatively once I stepped out of our room that evening. His mint-green eyes twinkled naughtily, enticing me—not exactly hard to do with the sleek tuxedo he was wearing.

He looked absolutely delicious.

Taking my hand, he slowly twirled me, fully taking in the red, corset ball gown I wore. It was delicately embroidered with crystals, depicting thin winter branches along the cleavage, the edge of the ample skirt, and along the slit on my left leg. They sparkled under the lights, and the vibrant yet deep color contrasted beautifully with my pale Vampir skin, calling attention to my vibrant red hair, and my lips of the same color.

His eyes roamed my form from head to toe, particularly appreciating my cleavage and my fully visible leg through the slit. “Wow,” he whispered, fully taken aback by the sight. “Mo bhean ghràdhach. You are absolutely breathtaking.”

Oh, he was smooth…

A smirk curved my lips at the endearment, he knew how crazy it drove me when he called me my sweet wife in Gaelic, the native tongue of his race, but I ignored him. I had enough, with the anxiousness clawing at my stomach and making me nauseous, to lose focus because of that tantalizing man tonight.

There was too much on the line.

He attempted to pull me into his arms, to kiss me, but the large skirt of my dress didn’t let him. His lips twitched as he narrowed intelligent eyes at me. “Stunning, powerful, and unreachable… just the way it should be,” he confirmed. “That is the only language those Vampires understand. Just remain so high above them that all they’ll be able to do is revere you.”

“Just them…” I clarified, and his mesmerizing smirk returned. “Absolutely, the second we return to our room, that dress will be nothing but shreds.”

Chuckling, his hand reached for mine, helping me along the hallway, but as we reached the main hall’s staircase, I stopped, taking a settling breath.

“Everything is going to go according to plan,” Mathew whispered, kissing my hand. “You are Countess Dariah Dracul, their Absolute Sire, and the ruler of the Adevărată Imperiu,” he added, perfectly pronouncing it in Romanian. “It is because of you, that the True Empire lives again.”

“And because of you.” Kissing my fingertips, I pressed them to his mouth. Mathew often forgot that if it wasn’t for him, I would have never found my father again. I wouldn’t have rediscovered myself and finally been back home.

Smiling, we descended the staircase together, reaching the group of people that awaited us on the second floor.

“Tată!” I greeted my father, surprised to see him there. Happiness captured my being, easing my nerves a bit. “I wasn’t told you had arrived from your honeymoon.”

“I told them not to. We wanted to surprise you.” He winked at me, looking all debonair like a seasoned James Bond in his black tux. Reaching for my hand, he placed a reverent kiss on my knuckles.

“Alekxandru,” Mathew greeted with a head bow, receiving one in return from my father. “Did you cut your trip short?”

“Do you really think we were going to miss this history making event? Let alone our first Christmas together in the official True Empire?” Anne’s voice answered instead of my father’s.

My gaze moved behind him to see her walking towards us with Marie by her side, her hand in her granddaughter’s. Her presence warmed my heart. Anne had come into my life at a moment when I needed her most; she became my friend and then found love with my father. A feat not easily accomplished after she’d suffered under the Dynasties’ cruelty. They had just gotten married three weeks ago, so I didn’t expect them to be here tonight; now the night was complete.

“Anne!” I called, extending a hand to her.

“We wouldn’t miss this night for the world, sweetie,” she answered, squeezing it reassuringly. “You’ll do great tonight, and you look gorgeous.”

“She looks confident, powerful, and stunning,” Tată confirmed. “Like the leader I always knew she would be.” He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her to his side, and a part of me wanted to take a picture of them.

Anne was poised, sweet, and demure as usual in an elegant, one shoulder black dress, with a long cape that spilled from the back, reaching the floor. It still amazed me how much her features resembled Kate Beckinsale’s. They made the perfect couple.

“You look beautiful too, Marie,” I addressed the sweet young woman that stopped next to Anne. She had chosen to remain with us through it all, and I loved her like another sister. Marie would turn sixteen in a few days, making this celebration even more important for our family.

“Shall we?” Father asked, offering me his hand and I accepted it, taking the staircase down to the main hall while Mathew took my other side. Anne and Marie followed.

“Absolute Sire. Absolute Mother. Countess of Transylvania…”

Two male voices recited in unison when I arrived at the door of the ballroom, showing their utmost respect for me. A smile stretched my lips when I glanced at Sebastian, former dynasty ruler—now the Vampir Chancellor of Austria and several nearby territories, after we dissolved the dynasties. He bowed his head gracefully.

“Uncle Bastian,” I greeted, blowing him a small kiss, since he couldn’t reach me or kiss my cheek. From that point on, I couldn’t be seen physically interacting with anyone… other than my husband, of course.

“Countess,” his partner, DeLorean, the Căpitan and fierce leader of our Vampir army, bowed to us too. He had supported us since the start of our race.

“Nyvith Stăpân”—Nyvith Master, they both greeted Mathew, who stood by my side.

“We were waiting to escort you into the room,” DeLorean added.

“All the Vampiri Chancellors are present?” I asked, acknowledging the meaning behind his words. The nauseous feeling returned to my gut. Why was I so on edge?

“Yes, Countess,” Uncle Bastian confirmed. “Even the ones from the new appointed territories—North America, South America, Africa and Asia.”

“That is a very good sign,” Father added, pleased, but not the least bit surprised. “Their presence alone signifies a show of loyalty, and their acceptance of your reign.”

“Thank you, Tată.”

His gaze travelled from me to Sebastian. “Very well, then we shall not make them wait.”

With those words, my father offered his arm to his wife and walked through the doors into the ballroom the moment DeLorean’s guards opened them for us.

Marie followed them as Sebastian and DeLorean took their place behind Mathew and I, waiting for us to enter. The energy coming from the room electrified my nerve endings in both an exciting and troubling way, and I gripped my husband’s arm, stopping him before he could take his first step.

“Something is not right,” I whispered. “There is a strange energy making my instincts go haywire.”

“You are just nervous, baby, and it’s understandable. Tonight is the first time since the battle when all the Chancellors will be in the same room, bending a knee to your authority after the collapse of the Străbun Dynasties. This is the true confirmation of your ruling, and their veneration of your empire. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“La naiba!” I cursed under my breath, glaring at him. “You just jinxed it, Mathew.”

A throaty chuckle left him. “Stop. It will be fine.”

I sighed, glancing at the people who fully bowed to my father on the other side. Everyone there was dressed in black. “Okay… but stay alert.”

Nodding, he offered me his hand. “Now let’s show them who we are, just in case they are thinking of messing with us.”

That brought a slow spreading smirk to my red lips, and I straightened. Taking his hand, my black feathered wings extended from my back, the sharp talons at the top ominously pointing to the crowd.

My husband’s back broadened the next second, his beautiful brown bat-like wings unfolded behind him, a green shimmer pulsing over them like a heartbeat as his warrior magic awoke.

Lifting from the ground, we flew through the door, hearing breathless gasps escape the guests the instant they saw us. All other sounds died until utter silence engulfed the space. We flew to the dais set up at the front of the room, landing before the regal, black and iron-carved seat that had been made specially for me and placed in the center.

Father and Anne stood on the right side, waiting for us.

I faced the audience with Mathew by my side, noticing how their amazed eyes roamed over my rare wings, my face, and every other inch of me visible to them, taken aback by my presence. Although I was a Vampir too, I was the first and only Vampir ever to be born, and that—among other things—made me like no other that existed. Not even my father.

Their fascinated gazes soon turned to my husband. The Nyvith magic that ran through his veins illuminated the runes on his chest through the shirt, exuding from him in soft green waves.

“Do you recognize Lady Dariah Dracul as your Countess and ruler?” Sebastian asked the guests, landing at the foot of the stage. His pearly white bat wings gleamed under the chandeliers as brightly as his long, platinum-blond hair did. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked like an angel.

“She is our Countess,” hundreds of voices vowed in return, once the shock began to fade.

“Then bow to your Absolute Sire. Absolute Mother. Countess of Transylvania!”

One by one, the Vampiri began to bend the knee, the wave of movement fluidly spreading until it reached the back.

“Absolute Sire. Absolute Mother. Countess of Transylvania…” the men and women repeated, pledging utter loyalty and obedience to me.

“Bow to your absolute mother,” DeLorean demanded, and I realized a few guests along the ballroom had remained standing. “I will not ask again.” The commander’s warning was clear, but the men and women still glanced up at me, seeming out of sorts by my presence.

Raising a finger, I signaled to DeLorean to let me handle it, and my wings lifted me once more, taking me to the center of the room where a few of the individuals stood. Others moved out of my way when I landed, following the unspoken rule that no one was meant to approach me or even stand near me.

Calling onto one of my gifts, I glanced straight into the man’s eyes. “Bow,” I whispered, and I watched his eyes widen as his body inevitably followed my command, taken by my limitless compulsion. The man blinked, now on his knees before me, and looked up at me briefly. A hand touched his heart the next moment, and he bowed his head.

“Absolute Sire,” he pledged, voice filled with astonishment.

Vampiri were the single most dangerous creature that existed—after me and my husband of course—and the only way to rule them was with an iron hand. They revered nothing in this world like they did power, so power got their respect. Luckily for them, I had plenty of that.

With a curved grin, I glanced at the others who had previously stood. They also bowed to me, bending the knee, and I suspected their hesitation hadn’t been ill born, this was exactly what they had wanted to witness.

Chapter 3

Returning to the dais, I took my place in the throne, but not before exchanging an amused smile with my husband. He had come to the same conclusion I had.

“Tonight is a glorious night,” I spoke to all for the first time. “Tonight, we officially welcome a new era among our race. We return to you the empire that created you all and made you powerful beings among the humans. You were created to never be their equal, but you were also taught never to be their oppressors.”

Heads nodded as they agreed with my statement, the hope and recognition of a new life shining in their eyes.

“Look at the men and women next to you. Look into their eyes and recognize your brothers and sisters in this new family that will never leave you to fend on your own. We are stronger as one, and that is what my ruling offers you. A family. A way of life where there is no more hatred and war. Where we live our best lives among humans, who willingly donate their blood to our survival, just as we donate ours to eradicate the illnesses that threaten their existence. We are stronger as one.”

I glanced at my sired sons and daughters, seeing them smile at each other as their gazes met, acknowledging my words as true.

“I vow you will live peacefully with human allies who no longer see us as abominations, but as protectors. Humans who appreciate us just as we do each other. Who love us, not in spite of what we are, but because of it. This is not an illusion, but a reality that already exists among us.”

My gaze found my father taking Anne’s hand in his and raising it to his lips for a kiss. I gestured towards them, just as movement from my right called my attention. A smirk stretched my lips with Antoine and Zoe’s arrival.

“Proof of this can be seen here tonight,” I continued. “Confirmed by the marriage between your Count Alekxandru Andrei Dracul and Anne Vernier, a human. As well as the union between the Vampir Chancellor of France, Antoine Laurent, and Zoe Dimitropoulos, also a human… and many more.”

Antoine winked at me naughtily when I gestured towards them, while his girlfriend, Mathew’s other best friend, simply smiled at my husband and I. Taking two champagne flutes, he handed one to Zoe; the waiters had begun offering them to everyone present.

Mathew handed me a champagne glass too, and I lifted it, seeing everyone follow my signal.

“So, let us honor the wonderful opportunities placed before us by this new era, and let us celebrate once and for all, our first Christmas as a new family. We are stronger as one!” I cheered our new vow to unite us.

“We are stronger as one!” everyone answered, clinking their glasses together and drinking.

“To the Adevărată Imperiu!” Sebastian lifted his flute again.

“Long live the Adevărată Imperiu!”

Laughter and cheers rose in the air as they drank in my reign’s name, and the music began to play all around us, officially beginning the festivities.

“Well done,” Tată offered, walking to my side with Anne, and I stood to meet him halfway. He kissed my hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to dance with my dazzling wife.”

Anne’s cheeks blushed as he pulled her with him to the dance floor, and I chuckled, facing my husband. Grinning, he retracted his wings into his back, and I followed suit.

“I told you everything was going to go well. You had nothing to worry about.” He pushed my skirt back with his knees and yanked me close for a stolen kiss.

Laughter escaped me the second before his lips claimed mine… unfortunately, his delicious touch was not the only thing to reach me. Suddenly, the scene before me stopped—everyone frozen in time except for me—and another one of my powers flourished to life.

The Future’s ghost.

My eyes followed what looked like the spirits of the people present begin to move again, but much slower. Mathew and I were still on the stage, but most of our guests were no longer dancing. Instead, most of the Vampiri stood in a line, waiting to make their way to me and personally pay their respects to their true ruler.

Antoine’s ghostly figure slowly danced with Zoe in the background, alongside a few other couples, including Alfie and Dove, who was the only person wearing a white gown instead of the black attire. Sebastian and DeLorean also swayed to the romantic tune, while a new couple found their way to the stage, taking their turn to personally meet us.

“Our Absolute Sire, Countess Dariah Dracul,” the Vampir introduced me to his lady friend after bowing to my husband and me. His ghostly form moved as though in slow motion when he gestured to us.

The woman smiled as she glanced at Mathew instead, an evil gleam sparkling in her crimson eyes at the same time I recognized she wasn’t a Vampir but a Witch.

“My pleasure.” Her voice lingered eerily in the glimpse of the future, and I witnessed her hand grip Mathew’s arm.

The image of them swayed like a wisp of smoke when the Witch’s touch did something to his magic. Green energy rushed over Mathew’s hands like lighting, uncontrolled, and my husband’s eyes widened, seemingly electrocuted by his own power. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed on the stage, convulsing.

“Mathew!”

Blinking out of the dreaded vision, I saw Mathew pull back from our kiss, his expression becoming troubled when he noticed the strain in mine. “Okay, my kisses are not that bad,” he teased. “What happened?”

“I just saw something.” I turned from him, frantically searching the crowd just as the music changed and the song from my vision began to play.

“A glimpse of the future?” he asked knowingly, and I nodded. “What was it about?”

“Let us take a moment now for each of you to personally introduce yourselves, and pledge your loyalty to the Countess,” Sebastian announced at the same time, motioning for people to form a line at the right side of the stage.

My heart began to slam against my chest, and I continued to look for the Witch in my vision among the guests.

“Baby, what is it?” Mathew insisted, bringing my attention back to him.

Forcing myself to calm, I gripped his hand and brought him back to the throne, taking my place on it. “Just stand beside me and don’t let anyone touch you.”

Confusion spread over his features, but he nodded. Straightening beside me, Mathew’s magic flourished to life, his runes and mint-green irises glowing as he became ready for anything that could happen, like the Slayer he was.

“Absolute Sire,” the male voice brought my attention to the front, to find the Vampir Chancellor for Africa standing a few steps before me. He was alone. “It is an honor to have been chosen as part of your court, and to extend your supremacy into my lands. I vow to protect and continue to teach your way of life to my Vampiri and all new sired. Those of our race in Africa have been craving structure for too long, a family, and you have finally offered us one.”

“Thank you,” I answered, accepting his pledge, and watched him bow to Mathew as well.

“Nyvith Master.”

Mathew slightly bowed his head, and we saw the Vampir Chancellor move on so the next person could meet with me.

“Absolute Mother,” another Chancellor greeted, but it wasn’t the man from my vision. “It is an honor to swear devotion to you. Thank you for ending the tyranny the dynasties enforced on us.”

“Thank you for your loyalty. Welcome to our family,” I offered, my gaze turning to the woman and girl standing beside him. The child couldn’t be more than twelve years old. “Is she…?”

“Yes, she’s a Vampire like us,” the mother confirmed.

“She was attacked and fed on by one of Charles Martel’s guards, then left for dead,” the father informed, jaw tightening with disgust. “My wife found her and nursed her back to health, but her transformation had already begun.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I offered to the girl, my heart squeezing for her. “I’m glad you are safe now.”

“We adopted her and became a family,” the woman added with a heartwarming smile, turning to the bright side of the story. “We have taught her everything we remember from your father’s kingdom, and we are truly blessed that you are our Countess now.”

“We will protect our family above all,” I swore, and they nodded, believing my words as true.

The little girl pulled her mother’s arm, whispering something in her ear that made her chuckle. “My daughter, Camilla, has a few questions she’d like to ask, but I told her it is best not to bother you with such trivial things.”

“Oh, that doesn’t bother us at all,” Mathew assured, grinning at the girl. “We would be glad to answer.”

“Okay,” Camilla nodded excitedly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Her bright brown eyes glanced at me. “Is it true that you have more than one power?”

“Yes. I have nine different abilities, like my mother had,” I offered, preparing for the next question, but her attention shifted to Mathew.

“Is it true that you are part Vampire, part Fae, and part Wolf Shifter?”

He crouched before her, lifting a hand and letting his magic flow through his fingers. “Don’t forget part Witch.” He winked at her, smirking, and her entire world seemed to stop.

I knew the feeling.

“Woah. And is it true that you are a Vampire Slayer?”

“Yes,” he replied mysteriously. “But I only slay evil Vampires that threaten humans and our family, that is why I married the most beautiful of all.”

Lips twitching, I rolled my eyes. “I guess I’m not as interesting as I thought. I only serve as arm candy.”

Camilla’s parents chuckled while their daughter continued to ask my husband questions. “Is it true that you have Vampire wings and you can fly?”

“Yes, I flew into the ballroom tonight. You didn’t see us?”

She shook her head, sadness capturing her expression. “There were too many tall people in front of me.”

“Well, you want to see them now?”

“Yeah!”

While my husband turned the throne stage into his own catwalk, and began to flaunt his Nyvith assets to his latest admirer, I looked beyond him to the dance floor, my eyes falling on Sebastian and DeLorean as they danced, passing Antoine and Zoe just like they had in my vision.

Urgency filled me, but when I turned my attention to the front, the sweet family had left us, and a new couple had replaced them. “Our Absolute Sire, Countess Dariah Dracul,” the Vampir introduced me, and my eyes snapped to the woman beside him. Her crimson eyes twinkled with mischief.

The Witch.

I reacted.

Pulling all gravity from around me in a split second, I jumped to my feet, thrusting the force at her with everything I had. It slammed into the Witch’s chest before she could touch my husband, sending her flailing back along with her Vampir friend.

She didn’t go down without a fight.

A hand lifted as she fell, shooting a green ball of fire towards Mathew. His wings blocked her attack, and as they reopened, his whip suddenly materialized in his hand. The fiery leather cord shot through the room, cutting the head off the traitor Vampir that brought the evil Witch to attack us, its green fire consuming what was left of his body on contact.

Sebastian, DeLorean, and a few other Vampiri, ran towards the Witch, wanting to rip her to pieces for threatening us, but it was Mathew’s whip that slashed her back, blowing her against the wall.

Gripping the wall with a wail of pain, she turned livid eyes on me, as though she hadn’t expected us to be so powerful, and threw a curse at us. A sphere of green fire slammed against her magical attack, rendering it useless, and she roared in ire, creating a portal to escape.

The Witch rushed to cross it before Sebastian could reach her, but not fast enough to evade the second whip that hurled towards her. The end of Decebal’s weapon sliced the side of her face open, and she fell through the portal, her scream of pain and anger lingering in the air.

“Son!” Decebal’s voice split the room and he ran towards us, and I whirled around to notice my husband’s wings had stopped the attack, but the Witch’s magic had somehow still affected him.

He swayed on his feet, stumbling backwards, but Antoine’s arms caught him before he could hit the floor.

“No!” I breathed.

Chapter 4

“I assure you, I’m fine,” Mathew protested for the millionth time while Decebal continued to examine him. His father was the first Nyvith warrior created to fight evil Vampires, and as such, he had far more experience with their type of magic.

“Stay still!” I ordered, walking out of the closet after Dove and Zoe helped me get out of the monster of a dress I wore, and I changed into a simpler one.

Mathew grunted, but bit his tongue, remaining still on the bed while his father scanned him with his energy yet again, trying to make sure the Witch’s curse hadn’t hurt him.

“Everything seems to be well,” Decebal finally answered, the magic going dormant in his hands as he turned to look at me.

“I told you I was fine, I—”

“Stop!” Decebal scolded his son, then glanced at me again. “We’ll have to monitor him to be certain he is in the clear. We still don’t know what kind of spell the Witch’s attack contained, or what her intention was against Mathew.”

“I blocked it with my wings. There is nothing wrong with me.”

“You lost consciousness, Mathew,” I argued, walking to stand next to Zoe. “Her magic affected you.”

“Yeah,” Antoine huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “If it hadn’t gotten to you, you wouldn’t be in bed, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Don’t call me that...” Mathew warned, dangerously narrowing his eyes at our friend. “I’m a Nyvith Master. Don’t forget I can slay your pretentious French ass if I want.”

Antoine snorted. “Tell that to your fat ass while I was carrying you up the stairs and laying you on the bed. I was half tempted to kiss you just to see if you would wake up.”

They glared at each other something fierce, nostrils flaring, but then burst out laughing. “Okay, that was a good one,” Mathew admitted.

“I know, right?” Antoine chuckled, sitting next to my husband on the bed.

Zoe and I rolled our eyes. “Do me a favor,” Zoe asked. “Next time, don’t let your ex-boyfriend enter a bromance with your husband. Save us all the pain of having to witness this level of stupidity.”

“I promise,” I grinned just as Decebal reached our side. “Thank you so much for checking on him and helping drive that Witch away.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been here earlier. I might have sensed her among your kin and stopped her, but time passess so differently in the land of the Fae.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You arrived just in time.” My hand squeezed my father in law’s arm reassuringly. “It just happened so fast. Not even I could stop her, and I had a vision beforehand,” I admitted. “We did what we could, but she was determined to hurt him.”

“The question is why?” he pondered.

“Just have DeLorean search for her Witchy ass and burn her to hell and back,” Zoe huffed.

“She’ll pay for what she did,” I assured, I wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “But I don’t want a war with the Witches right now,” I confessed. “I need my kingdom strong before we go after them.”

“Maybe that is what she wants,” Decebal mused, and I made a mental note to reach out to Amorah, my Witch friend.

“Can we return to the party now?” my husband asked, and we all turned to see him standing while Antoine fixed his bowtie.

“Stay still!” Antoine protested.

“Then stop trying to strangle me!”

Even Decebal shook his head at them, and we stepped out of the room to find my father walking towards us.

“Is everything okay down there?” I asked, fearing our first Christmas had been ruined by this disaster. “I worked so hard with Dove to plan this evening, I—”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Tată assured. “DeLorean sent a group of his guards to recheck the perimeter, but the Witch was alone and there are no more traitors among our guests. Sebastian made sure of that.”

That gave me peace of mind. Sebastian’s ability was Mental Supremacy; he could read and manipulate minds without anyone even noticing. If he said there were no more traitors, then I was satisfied.

“It might still take a bit for those loyal to the dynasties to get used to our new way of life. It’s normal, we just have to be vigilant.”

“Everyone is enjoying the spiked punch, and dinner is being served,” Anne confirmed, reaching us too. By spiked she meant the drinks had been infused with a dose of human blood to keep all Vampiri happy, and I appreciated that. “Are you guys ready to return to the party? How is Mathew?”

“He’s fine. Should be out soon,” I assured. “He’s having a moment with Antoine apparently.”

She and I chuckled while my father’s lips twitched. Everyone who knew them was amused by Antoine and Mathew’s bro love.

“Just make sure he doesn’t use his magic for the rest of the night,” Decebal warned beside me. “It might be unstable from the encounter.”

“I will. Go ahead and join your wife at dinner. We’ll be right there,” I offered, kissing his cheek, and he conceded, walking with Zoe and Anne towards the staircase to go to the dining hall.

“This might be a good opportunity to introduce Ivas,” my father suggested. “It will lighten what is left of the dark mood, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy meeting new people.”

“Great idea, Tată,” I agreed and turned to open the door. “Mathew, can you bring Ivas with you? It’s time for everyone to meet him.”

My husband stopped his conversation with Antoine and nodded, opening the balcony. “Ivas, come here boy!”

“Okay. Do you remember what you have to do?” Mathew asked Ivas once we stood outside the dining hall.

“Faaamily…” Ivas answered, bobbing his head.

“Yes, baby,” I replied, stroking his crest. “You are going to meet your new family.”

“Now, just to make sure you don’t forget,” Mathew added. “Mommy is going to enter the room and call you. When you hear her voice, you are going to fly inside and glide twice around the room.”

Ivas nodded once more, his eyes turning to me.

“Then you are going to stop on one of the columns for a quick nap, then do one more fly around and come to our side. Okay?”

“Baaaby,” he replied in acknowledgement and hugged me.

Mathew and I exchanged a heartwarming glance, before I let my Gargoyle Shifter go, and I walked inside the room.

Everyone’s attention shifted to us once we entered, and the stupid nerves returned, making me nauseous. I glanced around the room just in case, but I knew it was clear of Witches and traitors as promised by Sebastian, so I tried to let go of what had occurred, and enjoy myself.

Nevertheless, a part of me worried that the Vampiri might look at Mathew differently after being attacked before their eyes. Our race thought of themselves as the most powerful, and I dreaded they would be quick to dismiss my husband. Yet, as their gazes followed our advance to our table, all I saw was admiration and respect for the way the Nyvith warrior had fought back.

Many of the Vampiri here knew what my husband and his father were capable of because they had fought with us during the battle, but everyone else who had only heard rumors, now knew exactly who Mathew was, and that the Nyvith were not ones to be trifled with.

The Nyvith were revered once more, and that brought satisfaction to my heart.

Pride filled my chest, and I stole a kiss from his lips when he stopped to pull the chair for me to sit. Laughter rang around us, followed by some applause and playful whistling. He grinned, taking his place by my side.

Grinning at the sea of joyful faces, my attention travelled towards the big open window near the door.

“Ivas!” I called and saw everyone freeze in anticipation. Heads whirled, gazes urgently looking all around the room, waiting for the mythical Gargoyle to appear.

Silence descended in the room until a loud roar split the air, and Ivas shot through the window. Gasps and applause suddenly inundated the dining hall while Ivas’ smooth form glided above us, making his grand entrance. Flying along the crystal chandeliers, he spun them with his fingers as he passed, making them twirl and send sparkles of light dancing over the entire space.

People cheered, following his path with wonder-filled eyes and Mathew chuckled, kissing my cheek. “He’s a showman.”

“That he is.”

As practiced, Ivas stopped on one of the columns, gripping it with his claws and transforming to rough, grey stone next to it. He became a full statue that looked like it had been there for thousands of years. Silence captured the guests again, but it erupted into cheers when my sweet Ivas jumped from the column, swerving around the tables as his stony form turned to smooth, black leathery skin again.

One of the things that made Ivas so special was that he was the only one of his kind. He had been nothing more than a masterfully carved statue on our bell tower thousands of years ago, symbolizing protection and strength for our fortress, until one day magic made him real so he would become my guardian and never leave my side.

He had never faltered in his purpose.

My smile grew when Ivas finally landed next to us, and everyone clapped, astonished by what they had just witnessed. “That was perfect,” I praised, caressing his cheeks and placing a kiss on his forehead.

Ivas’ mouth stretched into his usually terrifying smile, rows of sharp teeth fully visible, and I chuckled. “Faaamily…”

“Yes, Ivas. They are your family too, and they love you.”

“Huuungry…” he whined, sitting between Mathew and I on the floor, and I made a face. He couldn’t really process food since he wasn’t actually alive—at least not in the way everyone else was—so when he called out hungry, he was actually ordering me to eat. It had become his new hobby.

“You heard him,” Mathew settled, reaching for a plate and starting to pile up food for me.

“No, I can’t.” I pushed the plate away when he placed it in front of me. “My stomach is still all over the place. These stupid nerves made a mess of my appetite. I knew something was going to happen. My gut was screaming at me. I can’t eat yet.”

“Hungry!” Ivas growled, pushing the plate back to my side.

“Are you feeling okay?” Mathew asked worriedly, while I took the plate and moved it to my other side.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just not hungry.”

Mathew glanced at Ivas while he wobbled to my side, taking the plate I discarded and bringing it back to me. “Hungry…” he insisted.

“Ivas, stop. I don’t want food right now.”

“Family!” he roared, calling people’s attention to us.

“No,” Mathew scolded. “Do not yell at your mother. If she’s not hungry, that’s the end of it. She can eat later.”

Ivas’ eyes followed the plate when Mathew placed it on the other end of the table, and I sighed, knowing what was coming. He didn’t take “no” well. Jumping on the table, Ivas pulled the plate back, and thrust it against my chest.

“Hungry!”

“Stop saying hungry,” my husband chided, dragging my Gargoyle down from the table.

“You are making a scene,” I glared.

“Me?! He’s the one who jumped on the table?” Mathew whisper-hissed, holding Ivas’ arms firmly as he began to thrash about.

“Family!” he whined.

“How do parents deal with this crap?”

“Don’t look at me!” I complained too. “I just end up doing whatever he wants, because there’s no changing his mind, yah?”

“Hungry…” Ivas grunted in the middle of what appeared to be a toddler tantrum.

“Fine! I’ll eat,” I snapped, taking a piece of bread from the plate, but Mathew stopped my hand.

“Stop spoiling him. That’s the reason he behaves that way. You let him get away with whatever he wants.”

Sighing, I watched Mathew pull Ivas off the floor. “Enough!”

My Gargoyle’s beaklike mouth opened wide, but only a strange guttural sound came out. And yet, his glaring eyes said he fully expected my husband to know what that meant.

“That’s not even a word,” Mathew protested. “Why can’t you just speak like the rest of us?!” he growled, struggling to hold Ivas once he began to thrash in his hold again. “Damn it, Ivas. Why can’t you be a man so I can understand what you are saying?!”

Mathew’s voice suddenly acquired a powerful timber, magic affirming his accidental command, and green energy burst from his hands, rushing into Ivas.

My Gargoyle froze.

“No!” I gasped, but it was too late. Mathew’s unstable magic engulfed Ivas’ entire body.

Shocked, my husband let him go, and we both stopped breathing. The next moment, my Gargoyle’s eyes illuminated in a green so intense we had to look away, and he shot into the air. Flying faster than he ever had, Ivas soared through one of the open windows towards the mountain.

“Holy shit!”

“La naiba!”

Mathew and I cursed at the same time, exchanging a panicked glance, and jumped to our feet, running out of the room after him.

“What happened?” Antoine asked when we almost crashed into him on our way out of the castle.

“Ivas!” The name was the only thing we could answer, wings snapping out of our backs, and taking to the skies.

This Christmas Eve was definitely cursed, and destined to be a disaster.

Chapter 5

“Ivas!” Mathew called urgently, flying in the direction we had seen him take—towards the frosted flower meadow behind the fortress.

“Come back, Ivas!” I called after him too, trying to catch a glimpse of the Gargoyle Shifter once more. He’d disappeared in the sky.

“Do you think he used one of his swirling portals?” Mathew asked, taking my hand in the air and guiding me to descend.

“No. I don’t know. I didn’t see him open a portal.” Worry clawed at my chest with every breath as we landed in the meadow, and I glanced all around us. “We have to find him, baby. We have to—” My voice cut off with the sob that lodged in my throat, and Mathew pulled me into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I would never. I-I’m not sure what happened.”

“I know,” I whispered, certain my husband loved him as much as I did. Trying to get a hold of my emotions, I pulled away. “It was that damn Witch. She did something to your magic.”

Slowly, I spun in the clearing, my gaze sharply combing the area while I forced myself to breathe the tears away. This wasn’t the moment to lose my shit, which to be frank, was very unlike me. My gaze returned to Mathew, who was crouching on the ground, bringing a pinch of snow to his mouth, tasting it. My husband’s eyes glowed when his Wolf Shifter nature awoke, and he began to track Ivas.

“Come out, baby!” I called to my Gargoyle, fearing the magic was doing the worst to him.

Anxiety and concern made my stomach twist violently, and a new wave of nausea hit me. Whirling around just in time, I ran the few steps to the trees and heaved, emptying my stomach from the few things I’d eaten that day.

“Are you okay?” Mathew’s hand gently stroked my back, infusing healing energy into me to make me feel better. “I’m in control now,” he assured when I glanced back at him, and offered me fresh fallen snow to clean my mouth.

Nodding, I sucked on the snow, taking a few calming breaths. “I’m better. Thank you.”

“Let me know if you feel bad again.” Seeing me nod, he took my hand in his and motioned for us to cross through the trees on the other side. “I think I found him.”

My red heels sunk in the snow with each step, but I didn’t care. Lifting the soft skirt of my dress—and thankful I had changed out of the humongous ball gown—we walked across the clearing, entering a forest of white sprinkled pines. The sweet scent of mint and Christmas drifted through my nose, giving me comfort.

“Ivas, it’s Mommy and Daddy. Please come out!” I called, moving with Mathew in the direction he had tracked.

“Ivas, I’m sorry! Come back please,” Mathew called too, continuing to guide us. He could smell him with his wolf senses. Nodding towards a cluster of pines ahead on our left, my husband pulled me along, stopping only a few feet away.

“Ivas?” I called softly. “Are you there?”

“Faaamily…” His broken call came from behind the trees and Mathew and I glanced at each other.

“You are our family, Ivas,” my husband assured. “I just want to say I’m sorry and make sure you are okay.”

Nothing.

“Are you alright?”

“Nooo…”

“Is he in pain?” Mathew asked, tortured eyes falling on mine.

I sighed. “It’s not your fault.” Kissing his cheek, I let go of his hand and approached the tree. “Ivas…”

“Ivas, can you show yourself please?”

“Baaaby…”

“Yes, baby, come here with Mommy.”

“Please…” Mathew begged, feeling terrible.

Only silence reached us, so my husband and I exchanged a glance, and I stepped forwards. “Ivas…?”

Rustling came from behind the tall pine tree as he nestled against the low branches, hiding. Silently, I got closer, seeing the tip of his right wing, and walked around the foliage until I finally found him.

Utter shock rippled through me the second my eyes fell on Ivas, and the breath was punched out of me. The ground under my feet violently tilted.

“Mommy?” Ivas called when my body collapsed to the ground, and the last image I saw before my eyes rolled back, was that of the young man kneeling over me…

Soft green eyes filled with worry.

“Where’s Ivas?!” I yelped, sitting up abruptly when I came to again.

The walls of my room swayed slightly, and I had to shut my eyes, gripping the bed to make the room stop spinning.

“Dariah,” Mathew breathed, relieved, sitting next to me and kissing my temple while a flurry of whispers resumed in the background. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?"

Stroking my hand slowly, he considered his next words for a moment. “You fainted.”

“Fainted?” Confusion captured my eyebrows and I shook my head adamantly. “No, I didn’t. I found Ivas, I—” My eyes widened with the memory that returned. “Ivas!”

Pushing my husband aside, I scrambled off the mattress and ran around the bed, only to halt when I found Antoine, Zoe, Dove, and Alfie, all gathered around something in the sitting area… around someone.

Antoine’s hands gripped my shoulders, as though to protect me from what I was about to see, and his eyes briefly connected with Mathew’s beside me before they focused on me. “You should take a moment to prepare before you see him.”

“See him?” My eyes widened even more. “Ivas? What happened to him?”

Pushing Antoine out of my way too—which wasn’t an easy feat, considering he was a 6”4’ wall of muscle—I rushed forwards and saw everyone carefully step away, revealing what they had been concealing from me.

The loudest gasp left me, and my hands flew to my mouth when my eyes fell on the young man sitting on the chair.

“Ivas…?” I whispered, disbelieving.

Mathew had turned my Gargoyle Shifter into a man.

“Mommy?” he asked in a soft voice.

The room violently spun, and darkness pulled me under as I crumbled into someone’s strong arms.

Damn it.

“What did you do to my baby?!” I roared, sitting up abruptly when I woke up on the bed... again.

“Me? I thought you said it wasn’t my fault?” Mathew defended next to me.

“That was before you turned him into a man!” I fumed, heart slamming against my chest while I pushed him out of the way and scrambled to Ivas’ side. Antoine halted me when I wobbled towards him like I was drunk.

“Maybe you should rest a little more.”

“I’m fine. Let me see him!”

“You fainted. Twice. And you are not a fainter, Dariah,” he protested. “Just calm down.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Oh, no he didn’t…” Dove mumbled from behind him, just as my nostrils flared, sharp fangs descending, and claws extended from my fingertips.

“Antoine Laurent, I love you, and you may be four times bigger than me. But if you don’t get out of my way this second, I’m going to make myself a new purse from your balls!” I seethed. “Get. Out. Of my way.”

His electric-blue eyes widened with the threat, and he lifted his hands in surrender, carefully stepping away.

“What’s that look like? Ostrich skin?” Zoe asked, bursting into laughter with Dove.

“Hey, you are a beneficiary from that particular part of me. I would think you’d want to protect it,” Antoine huffed, and Zoe snickered.

The voices got lost in the background, my attention fully focused on the soft green eyes that followed my every step to him. The young man sat with a large blanket loosely wrapped around his body. He held it to him, appearing scared, like he was a lost child who had just been found.

I supposed that was exactly what he was. A lost child in a world he’d seen in a completely different way until now.

“Ivas?” I whispered and saw him slightly nod, his fingers gripping the blanket tighter.

Except, they weren’t the clawed fingers of a menacing mythical creature anymore. They were normal. Soft skin in a beautiful chocolate hue covered his entire form. His now human head showed a slight shadow where his hair should be, like someone had closely shaved it and it was beginning to grow, and so did his square jaw—sporting a five o’clock shadow.

He had small ears, slightly pointy, plump lips, and soft features that accentuated his curious and innocent expression. The same defined muscles he had when he was a Gargoyle were present along his shoulders and the portion of his arms and chest that was visible. He seemed so tall, even though he was still sitting down.

The young man was endearingly handsome, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was my Ivas. Nevertheless, he wasn’t a “man” by any means. If anything, his features resembled that of a teenager, perhaps a seventeen-year-old.

“My baby,” I whispered, opening my arms to him, and relief captured his gaze.

Throwing the blanket down, he lunged towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me gently like he always did.

“Baby…” he whispered, but his voice was much softer now, missing the strained quality that his other form inflicted when he forced himself to speak—something he had never been meant to do until he met Mathew.

“Yes, my baby,” I cooed, stroking the top of his head where his crest used to be.

“He sounds so… normal,” Zoe murmured, amazed, looking at Mathew. “Was that a spell you used?”

“No. I don’t know. I didn’t mean to do anything to him,” Mathew explained from behind us, worry and guilt still clouding his words.

“It’s okay. You are okay,” I assured Ivas as he held on to me, soothingly stroking his back. Did he still have his wings? I couldn’t remember.

“Not okay,” he spoke, and I froze, glancing down at him at the same time he lifted his green eyes to me, which reminded me of my husband’s magic. “Hurt,” Ivas whined. “Ivas hurt.”

“Holy shit,” Antoine gasped. “He’s, like, actually talking…”

My gaze snapped to Mathew’s, and realization captured his expression. “That’s it! That’s what I did. I wished he was a man and I could understand what he was saying…”

“You wished he was a man?” Antoine questioned, seeming confused.

“He was having a tantrum, trying to force Dariah to eat,” my husband explained.

“Ha! Classic Ivas,” Zoe snorted, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing up her boobs in the sexy black outfit she wore—instantly hypnotizing Antoine.

“My magic was erratic, and it burst out before I could stop it.”

“Ivas hurt…” Ivas spoke in the third person, calling my attention back to him, and concern gripped me.

“You are hurt? Where, baby?” I asked, worriedly checking his head and shoulders.

“Hurt,” he pouted, touching his face and ears, then glanced down at his human hands, showing them to me.

“Awe, he’s so cute. He means his new form,” Zoe realized it at the same time I did, but my gut tightened.

“No, baby. You are not hurt. You are just… different now.” I took his hand and pressed my palm to his, finger against finger. “Like me.”

He blinked, an intelligent gleam entering his irises. “Different?”

Amazed at how fast he was picking up our words now, I observed him. Before, it had taken him months. “Yes.”

“Different is good,” Alfie offered, coming closer to observe him, and Mathew and I exchanged a glance. Alfie had been his lab assistant at Oxford when this all began, a Biological Chemist, and he was almost drooling at the prospect of a new specimen before him.

“Ivas different,” Ivas concluded, happiness curving his lips. Yet, instead of the terrifying, razor sharp grin he always had, a dazzling smile illuminated his expression, even with the small fangs he sported. “Different good!” he jumped excitedly, and my eyes widened when other things jumped with him.

“Aaah!” I squealed, turning away from him. “He’s naked! Why is he naked??” I demanded of anyone who could answer, trying to erase the image from my mind.

“I think the most important question is, why does he have genitals when he didn’t before?” Mathew asked, his scientific brain taking over, and I glared at him.

I wanted to smack him. “Why, Mathew? Why??”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? You are sorry?!” I shrieked. “My Gargoyle Shifter has a penis!”

“And damn.” Antoine whistled, clearly impressed, then turned to my husband. “You still have that spell, right?”

“Antoine…” I warned, so close to losing my shit.

Lifting his hands in surrender, he stepped away, but he laughed.

When my eyes returned to my husband, the blood had rushed into my irises, letting him know I meant business. “Change him back,” I seethed. “You have to change him back!”

“No!” Ivas whined behind me, and I turned to find pretty much everyone around us struggling to hold him and put a pair of Mathew’s shorts on him.

“Yes, baby. It’s going to be fine,” I explained, stepping closer. “Daddy is going to make you a Gargoyle Shifter again, and everything will go back to normal, okay?”

“No!” He roared at me. Roared. The chest rumbling sound blew the hair back from around my face.

Not the first time he had done it either.

“Ivas…” I warned in a firm voice, but he shook his head.

“Ivas good. Ivas different. Like you…”

Jerking away from the others, his Dragon-like wings erupted from his back and he ran past us, jumping off the balcony.

“You have got to be kidding me!” I ran after him, bursting into the sky with Mathew and Antoine by my side.

Chapter 6

My heart constricted as I followed Ivas through the sky, flying around the fortress to the place where all of this began. The river just behind the bell tower.

Landing a few feet away from him, I saw his human form straighten fully, walking towards the edge of the riverbend. Kneeling next to the water, he glanced at his new form in the reflection, touching the soft features that now formed the man he saw. The water rippled when his fingers reached for the reflection, and he pulled away, amazed.

“Ivas…” I called in a low voice, taking a few steps towards him. Mathew and Antoine followed.

“No,” he moaned, turning his back to me and sitting with his hands between his feet like he always did on the tower. “Ivas protector,” he chided, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Ivas friend…” He shook his head, pain coming through his eyes when he looked into mine. “Ivas family.”

Emotion clogged my throat with his words, and I nodded. “Yes, Ivas. You’ve always been there for me, even before Antoine found me. You protected me and gave me hope when I didn’t have anyone else. You are my family. I love you, that is why I want to help you get back to your normal self.”

“Ivas different,” he protested, turning around. “Different good. Like you…”

Sighing, I shook my head, trying to find a way to make him understand. “I know, but this is not who you were meant to be, you—”

“Dariah,” Mathew spoke softly, and I glanced at him next to me while he took my hand. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I replied, confused. “I’m trying to help him. This was an accident, Mathew. He was never meant to be a man. He needs to go back to being—”

“Your possession?” Antoine challenged and my eyes widened with hurt and shock.

“No! Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because that is essentially what he is. You are used to always having Ivas there, loyal, following your every move and command, risking his life to fight for you, but when is it your turn to fight for him?”

Blinking, I swallowed the harsh words, glancing at Mathew. “Do you agree with him?”

My husband shook his head. “Not with his words, but I agree with his intention.”

He sent a warning scowl to Antoine, and our friend threw his hands in the air, turning away from us like he just couldn’t deal.

“What I think, is that Ivas was always your anchor when you didn’t have anything else. And I understand that it is hard for you to see him as something other than the Gargoyle protector he has always been, because he is your safe haven. Your shelter. As long as Ivas remains Ivas, it doesn’t matter what happens…”

“But?” I prompted, his words striking a chord with me, even though I didn’t want to admit it.

“But you are surrounded by people who were never meant to be like you. Yet, they became Vampires and now thrive in their new lives, even with the obstacles they faced, and all the tribulations they were forced to go through. They have built a beautiful life of triumph. Look at Antoine, Dove, and everyone else now part of your eternal family. I think that, maybe, this wasn’t an accident after all.”

“Mathew, he’s been a man for all of two minutes.”

“Exactly, and those two minutes already changed his life. He’s experienced a new version of himself, and he’s trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to let it go.”

My gaze returned to Ivas and I found him touching his reflection over and over, trying to outsmart the water and appreciate his new self before the ripples distorted the image. He laughed innocently, freely, every time the water won, like it was a game. Excitement and a world of wonder were opening before his eyes.

“Do you really expect him to go back to sitting on the bell tower as a Gargoyle, until you need him again?” My husband asked, hugging me from behind, and my eyes stung.

“No…” I whispered, pouting. I hated it when he was right.

His lips brushed my cheek, and he cradled it, turning my face so I would look into his eyes. “Then maybe this is a decision he has to make… not you.”

Nodding, I left Mathew and walked to Ivas’ side, kneeling next to him. I reached for his hand before he could touch the water, and held it in mine, allowing the ripples to fade. The image of his gentle face fully formed before him.

Ivas smiled at me handsomely, but his eyes widened when he realized my face also appeared in the water. Hugging him, I pressed my cheek to his, so he could see us both, and he laughed, true happiness engulfing his being.

“You love Ivas?” he asked, looking at our hands together.

“Yes,” I whispered, cradling his cheek as the emotion captured my throat. “I love you more than anything. Even more than Daddy.”

His eyes widened, like that was as big as the universe.

“That’s right. I love you more than everyone else combined. But don’t tell Mathew that,” I whispered the last part and he chuckled.

“Ivas love you more than Daddy.”

That brought a chuckle out of me too.

“No tell Mathew.”

“You learn so fast,” I murmured in admiration. “Do you like being different?”

He immediately nodded, pulling his lips back to show me two rows of perfect pearly-white teeth. “Not scary.”

“True. You are not scary anymore. You are so handsome now.”

“Ivas like you… Like Daddy… Like Zoe.”

My eyes stung again while I nodded. “Do you want to stay like this? A man?”

Happiness captured his expression with the possibility, the smile illuminating his kind eyes. “Ivas stay man. Family.”

“Okay,” I whispered, the first tear falling and he pulled me into his arms, hugging me. I love you, Ivas.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

I pulled back, surprised he hadn’t spoken in the third person, and his smile made its way to my lips. “I know.”

Sighing, I let go of the version of Ivas that I’d held in my heart all these years, allowing him to become whoever he chose to be. His new life would be a journey of self-discovery, but I vowed to be there for him every step of the way, just like he’d been for me.

When my gaze fell to his body, I abruptly shut my eyes. “Still naked!”

The squealing made Ivas look down, and his eyes widened. He reached for his penis.

I scrambled to my feet, getting away from him like my life depended on it. “He’s pulling it. He’s pulling it! Make it stop!”

Antoine’s laughter danced in the air as he walked towards Ivas, and I flew out of there with Mathew.

The guests were ushered towards the great gardens after dinner, and Dove, Alfie, my father, Anne, and Mathew’s parents stepped out, gathering around the 70-foot-tall Christmas tree we had cut from the mountain and decorated for tonight.

Dove, Anne, Marie, Zoe and I had picked all the decorations ourselves. Linnea—my mother in law—had taken care of all the flower arrangements, with her being a Flower Faery and all, while Mathew, Sebastian, Antoine, and the rest of the boys had taken care of the lights—you know, the manly part.

The big conclusion of our Christmas Eve celebration as the True Empire was the lighting of the tree. Once it was turned on, it would be seen not only by the human habitants of the village inside our fortress, but by all of Transylvania. It was a message of hope, representing the peace between humans and Vampiri, and it meant everything to me.

“Where is Ivas?” I asked Mathew, nervously wringing my hands together as everyone settled outside. Antoine and Zoe had taken him with them after we returned to the castle, to try and get him dressed, and my stomach was in knots.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” my husband assured, kissing my lips, and calling my attention back to him. “I’m proud of you, you know. For letting Ivas make his own decisions and gifting him a new life for Christmas.”

Fake-frowning, I huffed. “Yeah, after you screwed up! And I’m still not sure I forgive you, by the way,” I answered stubbornly, repressing the smile that wanted to come out.

His lips tilted into a sinful smirk. He knew me all too well. “It’s a good thing you can’t resist my nerdy charm then.”

A chuckle escaped me when he kissed my neck, pulling me into his embrace. I gave in to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and swaying silently in the shadows in front of the French doors that led to the courtyard. People gathered around the dark gardens while they waited, cheerfully chatting and sipping the spiked punch. I was glad that even with all the hiccups the night had, it would still be a success.

Perhaps it wasn’t cursed after all…

“Are we almost ready?” Marie asked, coming inside. “DeLorean is trigger happy with the master lights switch, and he keeps asking when he can turn them on.”

“Just tell him that if he touches it before Dariah is ready, he’s going to lose his hand,” my husband answered, and Marie laughed.

“Yes, Sir.”

She looked super cute tonight in a short black dress with a puffy skirt, and silver embroidered flowers along the neckline. Her hair was up in a flirty ponytail that bounced when she walked, her lashes extra-long, and lips tinted a bright red.

“Dove did your look?” I asked, knowing she had to be the one to put that together. My sister loved dressing everyone.

“Yep,” Marie nodded, gently swaying and making the tulle of her skirt swing from one side to the other, like a bell.

“Hey, have you seen Dove?” Alfie asked, stopping beside us.

“She must be outside with Sebastian and everyone else,” Mathew replied. “Why?”

A nonchalant shrug lifted Alfie’s shoulders. “She got mad at me because she wanted us to open our presents now, and I told her she had to wait until Christmas morning. No cheating.”

“You are such an idiot,” Antoine snickered, stopping next to us. “You know she thinks you are going to propose, right? That’s why she wants to open the presents tonight.”

“She what?!” Alfie screeched. “Why would she think that?”

“Um, hello. You have been together for over a year. She’s a Vampiress, so I think she’s waited long enough to find her soulmate, and she is Dove,” Marie answered, like he should have seen that coming. “I mean, the woman plans her trips to the mall like it’s a vacation to Bora Bora. Do you really think she hasn’t been secretly planning your wedding for the past year?”

My lips twitched when Alfie swallowed, taken aback.

“Well… I guess it’s a good thing I have this then.” Smirking, he pulled out a tiny blue box from the pocket of his tuxedo, opening it for us to see. A pink diamond ring lay inside it.

“You had me fooled,” Mathew joked.

“Dude, do you know how much acting I’ve done to convincingly hide this from her?” he huffed. “I should win an Oscar.” Winking while the others chuckled, he hid the ring back into his pocket and stepped outside, searching for his soon to be fiancée.

Chapter 7

My gaze urgently looked behind Antoine while he drank a sip of his cocktail, but he was alone. I smacked his arm, bringing his attention to me. “Where is Ivas?”

“Zoe…” was his only response, and he took another drink. “Don’t worry, I already taught him what to do and what not to do with his new toy. He’s good.”

“Antoine!” I screeched, alarmed.

“I’m kidding…”

My nostrils flared. “I swear, if you mess with him, I’m going to—”

“I know… new purse. I get it.”

My husband laughed while Marie glanced at us, confused. “What happened to Ivas?”

Exchanging a glance with me, Mathew sighed. “He is no longer a Gargoyle. I turned him into a man.”

“Really?” Marie asked, mouth dropping in astonishment. We nodded. “Wow. Is he okay?”

“I think so,” I murmured, feeling terrible because I wasn’t sure.

“Oh, yeah. He definitely is,” Antoine assured. “He is adjusting much faster than you would expect, and he was communicating far more fluidly when I left him with Zoe.”

Both confusion and hope coursed through me. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but it made me think that maybe Mathew was right, and he had been gifted a new life for Christmas.

“And there they come.”

We all turned around with Antoine’s introduction, and my mouth dropped when my eyes fell upon my baby. Zoe walked on the arm of a fine-looking stranger with creamy chocolate skin, soft green eyes and a dazzling smile. Ivas was dressed in an elegant tuxedo that belonged to Antoine, no doubt, polished shoes, and a red handkerchief on his lapel.

Yet, the most impressive thing for me was how comfortable he seemed in his own skin, walking fully upright as though he’d never been crouched in his entire life.

“Ivas?” I whispered, flabbergasted, seeing him stop with Zoe in front of us.

He grinned fully, showing his small fangs and pulled me brusquely into his arms to hug me.

“Ivas…” Zoe called, stopping him. “What did I teach you?”

Frowning, he pulled away and grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. My mouth dropped.

“He’s such a gentleman,” Zoe squealed just before Ivan yanked me again into a massive hug that lifted me from the floor.

“Fine, so he still learning,” Zoe mumbled, shrugging when Ivas put me down. We all chuckled.

“Ivas, you look so good,” I offered, cradling his cheek. “My baby.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

Awe! Oh, I was going to eat him up, he was so cute.

“You are so big, you are not my baby anymore,” I pouted, and Mathew chuckled.

“They have to grow up sometime, dear.”

“Shut up.”

“You my family. Always my family,” Ivas answered, hugging me again, and I had to blink new tears away. Stupid tears.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered to Antoine. “How is he so… himself, and still so different? So comfortable, when he was just changed?”

My friend shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “I think it’s because he has been around us for thousands of years. He’s witnessed every human or Vampiri behavior. He has heard every word, learned every meaning… He already knows what it takes to be one of us, he just never had the chance to be a man. Now he does.”

Ivas turned to hug Mathew while I processed my friend’s words. Antoine was next, and then he pulled Marie into his warm embrace too. It was like he was so happy to be alive, that he couldn’t help but hug everyone he saw.

When he let her go, she looked up at him, seeming captivated. Her cheeks turned bright pink, and she appeared unable to look away. Ivas grinned happily, pleased he was doing things well, and took her hand like he had mine, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Uh oh…” Zoe chanted as we all observed Marie, who seemed stricken by Ivas’ presence as a young man.

To my surprise, his cheeks reddened too, and he blinked, captured by her honey eyes.

“No!” I gasped, but Mathew gripped my hand and pulled me away.

“We are letting him live his own life… remember?”

“Well, I changed my mind, yah?”

“You are drooling,” Antoine whispered in Marie’s ear and she turned around, smacking the crap out of him.

Zoe laughed, taking Antoine’s arm and they walked with us out into the gardens. When I glanced over my shoulder, I found Marie smiling sweetly at Ivas, who took her hand just like Mathew had done with me, and pulled her with him through the doors.

“Ready to turn on the lights?” DeLorean excitedly asked the moment he saw us, with Sebastian by his side.

“Yes,” I nodded, taking my place upfront with my and Mathew’s parents. Antoine, Zoe, Dove, and Alfie stood to our right.

“Transylvania, are you ready for the countdown?” my father asked loud enough for the cameras transmitting to the entire country of Romania, and all Vampiri around the world to share the occasion.

The excitement rushed through the hundreds of Vampiri and human people joining us as they nodded.

“Ten, nine, eight…” we all began to shout in unison, and I couldn’t help but feel like a part of me had always craved this, but I had never allowed myself to accept it, until now.

When we hit five, DeLorean pressed the button, and a string of white lights began to swiftly light up the castle, outlining it like a domino effect while making its way to the gardens. Snowflake silhouettes lit up too along walls and shrubs, the light rushing towards the huge tree.

“One!” our voices shouted in joy just as the twinkles briefly stopped, and the next second, the entire Christmas tree illuminated fully, all lights shining brilliantly in the night… as one.

Sheers erupted and fireworks of a thousand colors exploded in the sky. Mathew pulled me into his arms, kissing me like the first time he knew I was his.

“Aahh!!”

A frantic screech split the night, and we all turned around to find Dove jumping like a crazy woman, while Alfie remained on one knee before her. The pink diamond sparkled furiously among the million lights.

“I’m getting married!!” she screeched again, and everyone laughed, many lifting their glasses in cheers.

“You haven’t said yes yet,” Alfie complained, and she laughed, jumping on him when he stood.

“Yes!”

“Woohoo!” people yelled, celebrating, while many shared kisses in the festivities.

Music filled the night, and Zoe grabbed Antoine’s face firmly, smacking a kiss to his lips. Grinning, he pulled her closer, kissing her properly. “I love you.”

“I love you!” Ivas repeated, gripping Zoe’s face and kissing her, then turned to Dove, then to Alfie, and Antoine, and we couldn’t help but burst out in laughter while he made his way to us, kissing everyone.

Marie almost fainted when he kissed her lips too, honey eyes sparkling dazedly. So much so, that Zoe had to steady her before she could pass out.

“Someone has a crush,” Anne teased, and I shook my head.

“Do not encourage them.”

When Ivas stopped before us, he gave Mathew a peck too. “I love you, Daddy.”

My husband grinned, hugging him. “I love you too, Ivas.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

I smiled, expecting my smooch too, but Ivas crouched before me like he had always done, hugging me instead. I stroked his head as he pressed his cheek to my stomach. “I’m not going to lie, I kind of wanted the kiss.”

Mathew chuckled just as Ivas looked up at me and grinned excitedly, kissing my belly. “I love you baby too.”

Time froze with his words, and I finally understood why Ivas had been so over protecting, forcing me to eat, and saying that one word every time he saw me…

“Mathew,” I rasped, struggling to breath, and slowly glancing at him.

“Yes?”

“I’m pregnant…”

The most brilliant smile I’d ever seen captured his lips, and he pulled me into his arms, kissing me again. “Merry Christmas, Baby.”

A Note from the Author

Thank you for reading Cursed by Christmas,

Dynasty of Blood Saga: A Christmas Story.

If you enjoyed this holiday story, be sure to read the Dynasty of Blood Saga
to learn about the gang, their stories, and see how it all began!

Also, who doesn’t need sexy Vampire deliciousness in their lives?

Start binge-reading today, the series is complete!

What the readers are saying

Such an adorable Christmas tale! So many giggles and sentimental moments! Loved every second! ★★★★★

If you need a really good laugh out loud holiday read this is it. I will be reading it yearly just for the smile it gave me. ★★★★★

Incredible Christmas story!! Amazing read; full of love and laughter. ★★★★★

Just when you think things have calmed down for Dariah and Mathew, a true miracle comes just in time for Christmas. A truly enjoyable Christmas story and will have you laughing and crying. ★★★★★

About the Author

Stephany Wallace is an International Bestselling Author of Young Adult and New Adult Fantasy Romance, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She has multiple bestselling series including Dynasty of Blood, The Winter Court Chronicles, and Curse of the Lycan.

Stephany writes about headstrong, quirky, bad-ass heroines, and their swoon worthy, alpha male, sweet, or sexy nerdy heroes. She loves writing about Vampires, Dragons, Wolf Shifters, Witches, and creating incredibly vivid worlds that capture you from the very first page, and leave you wanting more.

Steph has many more adventures to embark on, so make sure you join her in her magical journey.

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Read More from Stephany Wallace

Check out the rest of Steph’s Bestselling Series.

There is something for every book lover:

Ancient Magic Series

*A Celtic Adventure & Paranormal Romance.*

Hidden Magic, book 1.

Renewed Magic, book 2.

Unwanted Magic, Eisha’s story, book 3.

Worthy of Magic, Art’s story, book 4.

Absolute Magic, book 5.

The Winter Court Chronicles

*A Fae & Dragons Epic Fantasy Romance.*

Forgotten Kingdom, book 1.

Broken Kingdom, book 2.

Everlasting Kingdom, book 3.

Dragons of the Temple. Avra’s Story, book 4.

Secret Kingdom. Theo’s Story
and the series conclusion, book 5.

The Curse of the Lycan Shifter Universe

*A Wolf Shifter Fantasy Romance.*

Beast of Shadow & Light, book 1.

Slayer of Hope & Sorrow, book 2.

Knight of Iron & Stone, book 3.

Queen of War & Peace, book 4.

Gustav & Zelin’s Story

Wolf Prince, Book 5.

Dark Wolf, Book 6.

Dynasty of Blood Saga

*A Paranormal Vampire Adventure & Romance.*

Cursed by Darkness, Book 1.

Claimed by Darkness, Book 2.

Consumed by Darkness, Book 3.

Countess of Darkness, Book 4.

Cursed by Christmas, A Christmas Story.

Witches of Fire & Ice

*A Paranormal Romance *

Evil Little Witch, Grimoire 1

Lost Little Witch, Grimoire 2

Pure Little Witch, (Coming 2021)

Supernatural Taskforce Academy

*An Academy Series, Paranormal Romance Adventure

From Authors J.L Weil & Stephany Wallace.*

Scorpion Blood, Mission 1.

Mystique Blaze, Mission 2.

Immortal Shift, Mission 3. (Coming 2020.)

Darkling Penitentiary Series

*A Supernatural Romance*

Dark Phoenix Rising, the Prequel.

(Available only for Newsletter Subscribers.

Sign up today.)

Phantom Assassin, Part 1

Dark Rose Society, Part 2 (Coming 2021)

God of the Realms, Part 3 (Coming 2021)

Rise of the Dragon Master

*A Dragon Riders Paranormal Romance*

Dragon Eye, Book 1

Dragon Rider, Book 2 (Coming 2020)

Dragon Master, Book 3 (Coming 2021)

Falling for Shifters

*A Shifter Romance Anthology*

Wolf Bait, A Wolf Shifter Romance Novella

Curse of Christmas

*A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories*

Cursed by Christmas, Dynasty of Blood: A Christmas Story

Christmas Spirits

Reaper Reborn Series: Special Holiday Edition

Harper A. Brooks

About Christmas Spirits

Jingle bells. Mistletoe. Christmas cheer. And evil spirits.

Kay Bishop is no stranger to the supernatural. As a Medium, spirits have always flocked to her like a beacon. But after a run-in with a demon and his Halfling creatures, Kay promised herself that this Christmas would be different. Completely spirit-free and ordinary. But as usual, things don’t exactly go as planned…

When a group of paranormal investigators unleash something dark and terrifying into the world, the evil follows Kay home after a holiday party, making her much needed vacation week a living Hell. Since Jade, her reaper best friend, is unreachable and busy with angel business, getting rid of this ghost is now Kay’s responsibility. But it’s not going anywhere without a fight.

The lives of her family are in danger, and Kay quickly realizes she won’t be able to escape her gifts... She’ll need to embrace them completely to save the ones she loves the most.

If only she doesn’t lose herself in the process.

Chapter 1

A three-tiered cake. Two dozen sugar cookies shaped like Santa. A gingerbread house complete with a four-piece gingerbread family. White chocolate peppermint cupcakes. And to top it all off, Grandma Abigail’s famous and addictive toffee pudding.

I checked off my mental list as I looked over the vast spread on the dessert table. The Harris family really outdid themselves for a yearly Holiday ugly sweater party, but I wasn’t complaining. This was my first step into the catering world and expanding my business, so I was happy they’d chosen me and Oh! Kay’s Pastries for their event.

It’d taken me almost three days of prep work alone, a few weeks of organizing and filling the orders, and a sleepless night or two of frosting, baking, and decorating, but I was happy how it all came out. I was sure once the guests all finished their dinner and wandered into the kitchen for a late-night treat with their coffees and hot cocoas, they’d find the desserts tasted even better than they looked. And that was saying something.

Baking was one of the only constants in my life. Well, besides my ability to see dead people—but that talent of mine usually led to chaos. Especially lately. But baking, using the recipes my grandmother taught me, only brought on smiles and full stomachs. There was nothing dangerous about that.

“Kay.” Laurence popped his head through the back door. Bitter cold air rushed into the kitchen, cooling the oppressive humidity pressing against me. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose like he usually did when nervous, and I smiled at the reflex. “Is there anything else you need to bring in from the van?”

“I think I have everything,” I said, “but thank you.”

He glanced at the table, lips lifting in their typical goofy way. “It looks good.” He inhaled, his shoulders raising to emphasize the action. “And smells amazing.”

“Hopefully Mrs. Harris thinks so, too,” I replied.

“She will.” He looked at his phone, and his smile fell. “Oh, shoot. It’s almost ten…”

My heart skipped. Oh no. We’d told Arianna—the young witch from Divine Magic, Laurence’s magic coach, and now our babysitter—that’d we’d be home at nine-thirty at the latest. But I couldn’t leave yet, I still needed to find Mrs. Harris, make sure she was happy with my set up, and get our invoice settled. That money was going right into the down payment of a business van for transporting and deliveries. The rental we had tonight cost way too much to use permanently.

“You can go home,” I told him and wiped my powdered-sugar-covered hands on my yellow apron. “I’ll finish up here and walk back.”

The shop and my apartment weren’t too far from here. Maybe six blocks, give or take.

As expected, Laurence shook his head so adamantly I was surprised he didn’t pull a muscle. “I don’t want you walking in the cold. Or at night.”

He didn’t need to say much more than that. I understood his concern all too well. It wasn’t long ago that I’d been kidnapped by a demon and almost dragged to Hell, so his fear made sense. There were times even I had trouble sleeping—the nightmares that had followed had been horrifying—but as time went by, things became easier. It’d been months ago, after all, and I had too many things happening in my life to be stuck in that dark mindset. All good things. My shop was open again and I was expanding, and of course, there was Zach. Laurence was learning more with Arianna’s private lessons than he could have ever done studying alone. The leveling test was in a few days, and I truly believed he’d pass this time and become a level two.

When I focused on the blessings in my life, it became easier to get over all the fears and anxieties. As an extra precaution, though, I made sure to wear my grandmother’s rosary around my neck at all times. Not only to keep the grounding memory of her close, but also as a quick way to contact Elijah, Jade’s guardian angel, just in case I needed him.

Being a Medium was hard enough, but it was a crazy I’d grown up with. It had taken me a bit to figure out, but now I could handle it. That crazy became my normal. I couldn’t escape that part, but in regard to demons, Hell, and any other chaos Jade was experiencing right now, I didn’t think I could handle it. With Laurence and now my son, Zach, I wanted a sense of normalcy back in my life. Needed it. At least as normal as could get for me. My dream job, a loving guy, a family… I was on the right track now.

I wasn’t asking for too much, was I?

I didn’t think so, anyway.

“I can manage a walk home,” I said, lifting my chin and forcing confidence in my voice. “The shop’s not that far from here.”

Laurence said nothing for a moment, but worry and uncertainty hovered in his gaze. At first, I thought he might insist waiting for me, but instead of arguing, he sighed. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

I smiled. He knew I needed this. As simple as it was. “Go ahead. Go get our baby. I’m just going to get everything all squared away with Mrs. Harris, and I’ll head out. Twenty minutes at the most.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” He stepped further into the room and pressed a kiss against my cheek before leaving again. The moment the door closed behind him, the cool air coming in from outside cut off abruptly. The heat of the room wrapped around me again, making me wish I hadn’t worn such a thick, knitted blouse tonight.

A woman strolled into the kitchen. Dressed for the party’s theme, she wore a blue sweater with an image of Jesus in a birthday hat and the words “Birthday Boy” scrolled across the neckline. Her hair was pinned and strung up with tinsel streamers.

“Mrs. Harris?” I almost hadn’t recognized her in the elaborate outfit.

She grinned and held out her arms, presenting herself. “Kay! It’s me under all this! Can you believe it?” She laughed at herself. “I really want to win the contest this year. Can you tell?”

Nodding my answer to her question, I found myself imagining the look on my grandmother’s face if she had been here to see Mrs. Harris’s festive ensemble. She would either storm out of the party or chase the woman down with her shoe in hand, threatening to beat the Holy Spirit into her.

Grandmother Abigail could be sweet as pie, but there were two things you never messed with—her recipes and her religion.

I clutched the cross at the end of the rosary around my neck, wishing that maybe this would be the time she would appeare to me. Most of the time, I had to beg spirits to leave me alone. Jade had been my haunt-wrangler and helped me out that way, but for some reason, my own grandmother had never come to me. And she was the one I wanted to talk to the most.

Maybe I should have asked Jade to find her for me on the other side. Have Jade ask her to cross over and visit, if that was even possible. But something told me that if I couldn’t see her, there was a reason for it. That didn’t mean I liked it, though.

“Ooh!” Mrs. Harris spotted the vast assortment of goodies I’d laid out on the table, and rubbed her hands together. “Everything looks delightful. I’m gaining twenty pounds just looking at it all. Good thing I’m wearing my stretchy pants!”

She laughed again, and I chuckled along with her. It’s all things I usually heard in the store when people debated what to buy. That, along with the occasional, “How do you stay so thin? I’d be five hundred pounds if I worked here.”

I didn’t mind, really. People said the dangedest things when indulging in their guilty pleasures. I, on the other hand, didn’t see a reason for excuses. I mean, who didn’t love chocolate and dessert? Why be ashamed of it?

“I have to say, Kay, you really outdid yourself. It looks amazing,” she continued to gush, leaning in closer to the plate of cookies. She snatched one and finished off half of it in one bite. As she chewed, her eyes rolled back and she moaned loudly. “Oh my God!” She covered her mouth as she kept chewing. “These are to die for!”

Pride filled my chest and I grinned. This was always my favorite part—when customers took their first bite and the look of pure joy passed over their face. Seeing them enjoy my cooking—Grandma Abigail’s cooking—made it feel like she was with me again and we were baking in her kitchen.

“I’m glad you like them,” I said.

“Like them? Kay, I’m hooked! I may just have to take this tray of cookies and hide them just for myself.” She laughed again, but the way she eyed the stack of sugar cookies and grabbed another told me it was an idea she was really considering.

As she nibbled on her cookie, she strolled across the kitchen, opened one of the top cabinets, and pulled out a white envelope. When she came back, she handed it over to me.

“Here you are, dear. I hope cash is fine,” she said, and I nodded.

“Of course.” Most business owners preferred cash transactions. Less of a chance of a bounced check or credit card chargeback. I began to open the envelope to get a peek at the amount inside. I didn’t want to be rude and make it look like I didn’t trust Mrs. Harris to give me the right amount, but I didn’t want to be shorted either. When I thumbed through the money and saw ten crisp hundred dollar bills, I almost gasped out loud.

That was over four hundred dollars more than I had quoted her for.

I quickly closed the envelope again, feeling all the heat that had been clinging to my body rush to my cheeks. That could definitely be a solid start to a company van’s down payment, but I couldn’t accept it. Not when I had promised her a job that was so much less…

She grabbed another cookie the second she swallowed her last one.

“Mrs. Harris… You g-gave me too much,” I stammered, passing the money back to her, but she waved her hand at me.

“It was done on purpose. You’re the one who helped me out in such a pinch. It was the least I could do.”

Still unsure what to do, I hesitated and continued to hold the envelope of money between us.

Seeing my discomfort, she smiled. “Think of it as a tip. Or a gift, whichever you like. But it’s yours.” Then she took three more cookies from the tray. “You deserve it.”

In the adjoining room, the music changed to the more upbeat song, “Jingle Bell Rock,” and Mrs. Harris squealed with excitement. “Would you like to stay? We’re going to sing our favorite Christmas songs on the karaoke machine. Looks like I’m up first.”

“Thank you, but I really have to get back and get the shop ready for the morning,” I replied.

She bit into another cookie and hurried to the doorway. “Don’t work too hard, now! Oh, and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” I called out to her, but she was gone before the words left my mouth. I glanced down at the money again, a bit stunned. I had been hoping this job would get me more customers through Mrs. Harris’s word of mouth. I definitely hadn’t expected a four-hundred-dollar tip.

Putting the envelope safely into my apron pocket, I pulled out a couple of my business cards and put them on the dessert table. Then, I grabbed my heavy coat, hat, and scarf off the back of a chair, and put on my winter layers.

The moment I stepped outside into the biting cold, I missed the oppressive heat of the kitchen. I debated calling Laurence and telling him about Mrs. Harris’s kindness, but knowing it was so late and that he was probably trying to get Zach to sleep for the night, I decided against it. I’d let him know the good news when I got home. Maybe tomorrow we could even check out some used car dealerships after the shop closed.

Excitement began to bubble up inside me as I started down the sidewalk, back toward Oh! Kay’s. Maybe I could do this. I’d be spreading myself thin for a few months—maybe a year—with running the store and handling the catering on weekends, but it’d be worth it. Who knows. Maybe I’d be able to hire some more employees to help out soon, too. Then weddings, a brand, my desserts stocked on grocery store shelves, and vacations. Lots and lots of vacations. That was the goal, anyway.

I didn’t remember what not working felt like. I’d been on the go…well, pretty much forever. Taking a break wasn’t really in my DNA. At least, it’d been ingrained into it ever since my grandmother was given sole custody of me and my siblings. She worked a tight ship, but while my older brother and my younger sister rebelled, I wanted nothing more than to make her proud.

Grandma Abigail was a Medium, too. And since my sister and brother didn’t share the gift, I got most of her attention. And most of her strictness and rules.

Don’t get me wrong. Growing up with Grandma Abigail wasn’t easy. She was a strong, no-nonsense kind of woman who clung tightly to her traditions, her culture, and her religion. But she was all I had since our mother was…unable to care for us, and I cherished her teachings.

Of course, it was always easier to appreciate someone when they’re gone or when you’re older, but my grandmother’s toughness and hard lessons made me the woman I was today. And there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about her.

Crossing my arms across my chest to keep some of my body heat in as I walked, I thanked our luck that it’d been a rather warm winter. Wet and still bitter cold, but warmer than usual. Because of our closeness to the coast, most of our potential snowstorms had turned to rain.

I wasn’t complaining. While most people were praying for a white Christmas, I’d be okay with skipping the snow and ice part of it. One, because it slowed down business, and two, because I always managed to slip on the hidden ice patches and bruise my bum. Ever since last year’s spill down my apartment’s steps, I was okay skipping something like that again.

Hurrying across the street, static energy tickled across my skin, making me pause on the sidewalk. Pulse jumping into overdrive, I searched the shadows around me. A similar sensation would pass over me every time I walked out of my store. My guess was that it was because of the rip in the veil separating our world and the other side, where all things not alive dwelled. That included Hell, Heaven, the afterlife, and all the mysteries that came after death.

Jade had warned me the opening in front of my shop led right to a Hell dimension and was probably the reason the demon, Xaver, had found me and made me his victim. If my hunch was right, that meant there was another tear in the veil nearby, too. And that was never a good thing.

A chill rocketed through me, confirming my fears. I’d been juggling my Medium gift long enough to know this chill wasn’t from the weather. The goosebumps rising under my knitted blouse and thick coat told me there was spirit activity.

I turned toward the building on the street corner. From the unfinished decking, crumbling front steps, missing roofing shingles, and boarded up windows, it was clear this old Victorian house had been abandoned for some time. Probably during reconstruction, which was a common thing in downtown Fairport. These old buildings costed a lot of money to redo, and most buyers didn’t realize it until too late. Then, they were left untouched. Left as shells.

From my sudden, uncontrollable shivering and the prickling energy skating over my skin, I would say, with certainty, that something big was happening in this one.

Something otherworldly.

Chapter 2

If there was an opening in the veil and spirits lingering near the house, I needed to get away from here. Fast.

As a Medium, I appeared like a beacon to the dead. At least that’s how Jade had explained it. I attracted them, and I didn’t feel like having a spirit tagging along on my walk tonight. Some of them could be really pushy and mean.

A loud boom came from inside the abandoned house, followed by a choir of screams. My heart plummeted. People were inside? From the force of that crash, a wall could have toppled over, or a chunk of the ceiling could have fallen on top of them. Something similar had happened to a church in town during a spontaneous and tragic fire two months ago. It had even taken the life of a churchgoer. It was by some miracle—and by what the survivors had said was a visit from an angel—that most of them had managed to get out alive.

If something like that was happening now… If those people inside were hurt…

I didn’t move. Only listened. But I heard nothing else coming from the house. That only inflamed my worry. Not to mention the shivers cascading through me were intensifying by the minute. My teeth were chattering in my mouth.

I walked over to the front of the house. A beat-up truck was parked there with a running generator cranking in its bed and a bundle of cords leading into the house’s missing front door.

A terrible high-pitched scraping sound and another scream.

Before I knew it, I was hurrying up the steps, making sure to dodge the weak spots and cracked cement. Stepping through the door, I moved cautiously through the small foyer. The flooring was warped, some places having big gaps between boards. Wallpaper peeled from the walls and the dust in the air was so thick, it clogged my nose and stuffed up the back of my throat with every breath.

Here, the bundle of wires split. Most crawled along the staircase to the second floor, while some curved into other rooms on the first. My first guess was that the generator and the cords were supposed to provide power for light, but the place was dark. The only reason I wasn’t tripping over my own feet was because of the glow of the street’s gas lamps peeking in from outside.

So then, if the cords and generator in the truck weren’t for light, what were they for?

When soft whispers and giggles came from the room to my left, I froze in place. Those definitely didn’t sound like screams of fear or pain to me, but the supernatural energy was coming from in there.

I crept closer and peered around the broken column into the room. A group of five college-age kids stood in a close circle, their hands interlocked. Each had one of those expensive, small cameras attached to a band across their foreheads. They all wore the same purple shirts, too, and I squinted to see the wording scrolled along their backs. The only light in the room came from blinking LEDs on the stationary cameras, microphones, and speaker-looking things set up around the room. At least I knew what the extension cords were for now.

Because the group was chatting excitedly amongst themselves and the cloak of darkness, no one had noticed me peeking in on their meeting. When the young man shifted, turning his back fully toward me, I was able to make out what was on his shirt. Believe it or not, it read, “G. O. A. T.” which apparently—according to the explanation underneath—stood for “Ghost Operations Alert Team.”

In other words, amateur paranormal investigators.

I rolled my eyes. The craze to understand the dead wasn’t new, but technological advances and equipment, coupled with popular ghost-hunting television shows, made these spirit-chasing groups spring up everywhere. And since Fairport was a very old city and a central hub for a variety of supernaturals, groups like G. O. A. T. flocked here.

“Go on, Brock, say the prayer again,” a girl said to one of the guys across the circle. “Maybe it’ll happen again if we all follow along.”

Turning on my heel, I headed back toward the door to leave. It was clear I’d been wrong in assuming something had gone wrong here. I wanted nothing to do with this nonsense.

Right before I reached the door, the violent chills of a nearby spirit stopped me cold. At the same time, the chants from the group in the other room grew louder. The language they were saying was unknown to me, but from the melodic tones, it sounded more like a magical incantation than a prayer.

Slowly, I made my way back to my hiding place behind the column and peered into the room where the kids were gathered. Still holding hands, they continued their chanting.

The air around me thickened, the energy building and building. The center of the investigators’ circle, just above their heads, shimmered and wavered. No one else seemed to see the changes though. Only me. And what I witnessed paralyzed me with fear.

A crack formed, glowing eerily with a red light. I was instantly hit was a terrible, sickening feeling. Could this be one of the rips in the veil Jade had been talking about? Was their prayer or whatever causing another one to open?

A gust of wind blew from somewhere, tossing up my hair and making me shield my face. When the others felt the gust, too, they exchanged excited looks and raised their voices. The unseen crack in the veil above them expanded with every passing second.

They were splitting whatever little was left of the protective barrier between the living world and the nonliving dimensions, and they had no idea they were doing it.

When a terrifying, earsplitting screech filled the room, terror seized me. I knew that sound; I’d never forget it. It came from those ugly and deadly Halfling creatures that dwelled in Hell and followed their demon masters. I knew this bit of information because Xaver—the demon who had possessed Laurence, tricked me into getting pregnant with his half-demon baby, and then kidnapped me—unleashed his Halfling minions when Jade had tried to save me.

Just thinking about that night again made me shake all over for a different reason.

The crack opened more, and a shadow passed behind it—an eager spirit, ready to jump out the moment it could.

Panicked, I leaped into the room. “Stop it! Stop it now!”

Every pair of eyes whirled on me. Some of the girls screamed, frightened by my sudden appearance. But at least the chanting had ceased.

I looked up, noticing the glowing opening shrinking and melding back together.

“Who are you?” a short but stocky guy asked, the camera hanging off his forehead swaying with his every movement.

I said nothing until the hole was fully patched and the air returned to its normal density and temperature. God, that was close.

“Is she a cop?” the brunette who had spoken earlier asked her friends.

Everyone was staring at me with confusion and annoyance. Especially the male whose question I’d ignored. He stepped toward me and repeated his question.

“Who are you? And why are you here? This is a private meeting,” he said.

“I-I—” Still stunned by what I had witnessed and the sudden danger we were almost in, I couldn’t find my words. It’s not like I could have explained it either. Not without revealing myself, what I was, and a big part of the supernatural world to these humans.

“Brock…” The brunette came to his side and touched his arm. Her voice lowered but still trembled with fear. “What if she’s the law? I can’t get arrested, Brock. I can’t. My mom will kill me.”

Despite her attempt to whisper, I could hear her loud and clear, and from the sound of it, she was worried about the police crashing their investigation. Meaning, they weren’t supposed to be here.

I could pretend to be an undercover or off-duty officer and demand they leave, but wasn’t that illegal? Impersonating law enforcement? I’m pretty sure it was.

If only Jade was here. She’d know how to handle this.

“I am the buyer of this property, actually.” The words flew from my mouth before they had time to register in my mind. When they hit me, I knew I had to run with it, as silly as it sounded. Being the buyer of a money pit like this was logical, right?

When Brock’s brow raised skeptically, I pulled out my cell phone and waved it at him for good measure. “I’d hate to have to call the cops right now and get you all arrested for trespassing.”

That was convincing enough for the other members of the group. They spun around and began taking down their various pieces of equipment, but Brock was unmoved. He stared me down with narrowed eyes. He may have been younger than me, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. The moment I showed a smidge of hesitation or weakness, he would pounce on my lie.

“Don’t let this punk bully you.” I could hear Jade’s voice bouncing around in my head as loud as if she were standing right next to me. It was something she would say whenever a spirit would harass me.

My friend wasn’t here now. I was on my own.

Guess I had to follow Jade’s lead and handle this how she would.

“You’re on private property,” I said and met his gaze. “That’s trespassing, breaking and entering… possibly even disturbing the peace, depending on the officer’s mood.” I held my phone up and pretended to dial in a fictional number.

Outside the house, the wails of a police car echoed from a neighboring street. Right on cue.

Finally, the hardness on his face cracked, worry leaking in.

“Fine. We’ll go,” he said. “We don’t need trouble.”

I smiled as Brock joined the others in cleaning up their things and starting to bring it all to the truck. Waiting on the sidewalk, I watched as they loaded everything up. Since my detour had already taken too much time and I didn’t want to stay much longer, I turned to the kids and said, “I’ll have a car pass through here in twenty minutes. That should be plenty of time to clear out.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be gone,” the brunette from before said as she climbed into the back seat.

“And maybe consider a new hobby?” I suggested.

She nodded and slammed the door shut. Two other girls from G. O. A. T. joined her in the back through the opposite side.

Feeling like I’d efficiently gotten my point across, I walked away. That situation could have ended far worse if I hadn’t stopped them. Those college kids had no idea what they were doing. They had been unknowingly opening a portal to Hell. Who knows what terrible creatures could have crawled through. The supernatural was never something to play with. People could have died tonight.

I shook the thought out of my head as I continued down the sidewalk, toward home. Just thinking about the real danger of the situation made me nauseous. I told myself I’d managed to stop it and that was all that mattered. It was over now.

The farther I got from the old Victorian house, the better I felt. No more chills and no more sinking feeling in my stomach, confirming that the worst of it was behind me.

Good thing, too, because after all the stress of the day followed by the night’s excitement, I was more than ready for my bed.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Wallace. We can have all that delivered to you for five. Okay. Sounds good. Thank you. Yes. We’ll see you then. Merry Christmas to you, too. Goodbye.”

I hung up the shop’s phone and scribbled down “5 p.m. delivery” on the new order sheet. Then, I clipped it on the hanging line I had designated for catering by the walk-in cooler with the five others I had taken this morning.

I’d woken up to a workday as hectic as the night before. No more members of G. O. A. T. involved this time, thank God, but my phone was ringing off the hook with incoming orders for Christmas Day. I was booking up fast, and if this kept up, I’d have to start refusing deliveries and only accepting pickups.

Since I was determined to spend Zach’s first Christmas morning together with presents, holiday pjs, and whatever other cheesy traditions I could start this year, I was only working a half-day, a late day. Any deliveries had to be done after three in the afternoon, which, to my surprise, hadn’t deterred any customers. They claimed they needed their sweets for after dinner.

My sudden popularity wasn’t expected, but it was sure exciting. The only explanation I could think of was Mrs. Harris. Either her guests had really enjoyed my desserts and wanted to order for their own holiday parties, or Mrs. Harris had spread the word about Oh! Kay’s new catering adventure.

I glanced over at the portable crib where Zack was drinking his bottle and making his normal happy grunts with every gulp. A nap would follow his feeding, and during that time, I could refill the display cases in the front and check my stock in the back, make sure I had enough ingredients to fulfill these orders.

I could almost bet I needed butter. A baker could never have too much butter.

A chill rocketed through me, and my heart seized, knowing exactly what that meant. I spun around, searching every inch of the kitchen for the intruding spirit. Nothing. Not a soul. Whoever it was, they must have been hiding, which was common. Most didn’t even know people like me—a Medium—even existed. Most didn’t know how to approach me.

At first, I was relieved to see no ghostly figures hovering around my mixing equipment or decorating tools, but then I realized that probably meant whoever it was would probably startle me later when I least expected it.

Either intentionally or unintentionally, as Jade typically did whenever she stopped in for a visit.

However, for some reason, I didn’t get the signaling chill whenever she popped in. Probably because she wasn’t a regular spirit; she was an archangel, something we had come to know recently. So, that could be why she’d gotten away with scaring me half to death whenever stopping in.

At least, with this lingering spirit, I knew they were here. It was just the “when” they were going to reveal themselves that was frustrating. The unknown factor.

Might as well help them come out so they could state their business, and then I could explain that I was too busy to find some lost loved one and pass on a message. Hopefully, they were the reasonable kind that would understand and leave me alone. But those instances were few and far in between.

“Hello?” I said, making sure to keep my tone low. Zach was just finishing up his bottle, his eyelids closing. Carefully, I walked around the kitchen, scanning every corner or potential hiding place for that familiar pulsing glow and transparency all spirits shared. It was their staple. So far, I found nothing. “I know you’re in here. You don’t need to be frightened by me. I’m sure I look a bit confusing to you, too…”

Okay, I was rambling now, but I had never tried to coax a spirit out before. It was always about waiting for them to come to me.

With so many things on my plate as it was, I’d rather just get it over with. Call it a day in the Medium department.

Striding around the center island and dough raising racks, another shiver snaked up my spine. I whipped around but, again, saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I sighed. So much for trying to speed this up. Looked like I was on the spirit’s time. As usual.

How did my grandmother deal with this so easily? Growing up, she never seemed bothered by her gift. I barely ever saw her even communicating with spirits. It was something she did in private. I had no idea how she was able to keep them away until she deemed it was their time. And unfortunately, she died before she could share that secret with me.

While I waited for this shy soul to come out, I might as well get started on my to-do list.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I took one step forward, suddenly glancing up, and was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight before me. There, right above Zach’s crib, was floating wisps of black smoke. Or maybe not smoke. I wasn’t quite sure what it was. The way the ends stretched out, slightly transparent, but floating in slow motion, as if they were being manipulated by a breeze, was majestic and slightly unsettling to look at. It was densely black at the center, reminding me of bunched up tulle or another kind of fabric drifting in moving water.

It was…entrancing. I’d never seen anything like it before.

I stared at the thing for a while, wondering what it really could be. The goosebumps covering my arms told me this was, in fact, a spirit, but it certainly wasn’t like any other spirit I’d ever seen. And I’d seen my fair share over the years.

There was no human shape to it; no recognizable features at all. Just a black, smoke-like handkerchief in the wind.

Despite its almost serene appearance and nonaggressive floating, uneasiness skated through me. I didn’t like how close it was to Zach—friendly spirit or not. I didn’t trust many living people with my baby as it was. I wasn’t about to trust something nonliving like that.

I shifted two steps to the left, hoping the spirit would follow my movements, but it remained in place, still over Zach.

My anxiety spiked. Maybe I needed to try speaking to it again. It had worked the first time—I think.

Couldn’t hurt, right?

“Hi there. My name’s Kay. I’m sure you’re wondering how I can see you right now. Possibly even where you are…”

The spirit’s tendrils twisted and darkened as if reacting to my words. I wondered if it was trying to communicate with me somehow, only in a way I couldn’t understand.

I kept going. “I’m a Medium, meaning I can see spirits, like you. You’re here in the living world. You must have stumbled through one of the openings in the veil by accident. If you’re looking to—”

There was a loud, guttural noise, like the deep blare of a freight train’s horn—powerful enough to rip through you and make your bones rattle. In the next instance, the black form doubled in size and flew at me.

With my arms up to shield myself, I stumbled backward, colliding with a cooling rack and toppling over with it. As I landed half on the floor and half on the metal, pain ricocheted through my hips and backside. But everything stopped when Zach’s terrified screams pierced my ears.

Chapter 3

Terror stole the scream from my lungs. Scrambling to my feet, I found Zach’s pack-and-play crib turned over, and him on the floor, tangled in the blankets that were supposed to be lining the mattress. Frantic, I rushed over, scooped him up, and peeled the fabric away. He continued to wail as I examined his face and head, and ran my hand over everywhere else to check for anything broken.

Nothing that I could tell, thank God. He’d just been spooked badly, like me.

Chills ran rampant across my skin, and holding Zach close, I spun around. My heart hammered against my ribs, and nausea spun in my stomach as fear seized me. The transparent black spirit hovered in the far corner of the kitchen, watching us. Even more horrifying? It was growing larger again, building up its strength for another attack.

Zach’s crib hadn’t tilted over on its own, and that meant…

A spirit that could touch things in the living world? I’d never heard or seen such a thing. Grandma had never mentioned anything like that either.

One thing was for sure, whatever this thing was, it wanted to hurt us.

As if it had read my thoughts, the black billowing mass flew at us again, its tendrils outstretched. I ducked just as it flew over, but its tentacles snagged my hair and wrenched me backward. I was dragged across the tile floor, the pain in my head breathtaking. In my arms, Zach continued to cry.

The spirit let go, and I slammed into a worktable. Pots, pans, and trays tumbled from their hooks, and I curled my body around Zach to shield him as they rained down. When I heard the familiar swish and felt the pressure of something sliding across my shoulders, I knew one of my bags of ingredients had fallen over, too.

When the ruckus stopped, I lifted my head and saw that both me and Zach were coated in white powder. Flour.

I struggled to stand again. My legs wobbled, but I straightened them. The spirit was back in its same spot, the dense middle pulsing as it grew larger. Definitely gathering energy from somewhere and readying for its next attack.

My gaze swung right, toward the backdoor leading to the alley behind the store, and contemplated making a run for it while it was immobile. I didn’t fight evil. That wasn’t who I was.

Remembering my grandmother’s rosary around my neck, I clutched the cross at the end. Did I call on the guardian angel, Elijah, for help, like he had told me to do if something went wrong?

“Kay?” Laurence’s voice came from the front of the shop. I could hear his footsteps getting closer to the curtain that separated it from the back kitchen. Immediately, relief flooded me, just knowing he was close, but it was quickly replaced by dread at the sight of the black mass gliding toward the doorway.

Pulling the curtain back, he stepped through, holding two take out boxes in his one hand and a bouquet of white lilies and roses in the other. “Surprise! I thought Zach would be sleeping by now, so I brought us lunch. Figured you’d like some company. Cuban sandwiches and spicy sausage soup. Your favorite.” He held out the gifts with his normal shy smile.

When he saw me—really saw me for the first time since coming in, covered in flour and clutching a crying Zach—his face fell. “Kay? What’s—”

Without saying a word, I hurried across the kitchen, snatched him by the arm, and tugged him back toward the exit door. The lunch boxes fell out of his hand, soup, bread, and all spilling all over the floor. In any other circumstance, I would have gushed at his surprise visit and gifts. Laurence really was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, even more attentive and romantic after little Zachary was born, but right now, I couldn’t think about anything but the evil spirit so close to him, preparing for another strike.

Before I could push him out the exit, he planted his feet, stopping. “What’s going on?” he half-yelled over Zach’s screams.

I didn’t have time to answer fully. Only a strangled cry escaped as I watched the spirit behind him lunge again, coming right for us. Seeing my panic, he turned, just as one of the see-through tendrils whipped out, slicing through the bouquet in one swift motion. Petals flew, and he dropped the decapitated flowers as if they were suddenly made of acid.

Gliding through the air, the spirit circled toward us again, and my stomach dropped. “Laurence!” I yelled.

He swung his arms so fast, and right as the spirit was about to crash into us, it hit into something invisible and solid between us before falling on the floor, motionless, like a clump of dirty laundry.

Magic. He’d used some kind of blocking spell.

Laurence stepped back, forcing me closer to the door. “What was that?” he whispered over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off it.

“I think it’s a spirit,” I replied, voice still shaky from the whole ordeal.

“Not a very nice one.”

No. Not at all.

As I bounced Zach in my arms, trying to soothe him, I realized something important. “Wait…you can see it, too?”

“The weird balled-up wad of black silk that almost sliced off my head a second ago? Yeah. I can see it.”

That was strange. If Laurence could see it, then maybe it wasn’t a spirit, like I had originally thought.

He leaned closer to it cautiously. “Reminds me of a mini dementor or something.”

Harry Potter reference. Since I hadn’t had time to read the books, he’d made me watch the movies with him and had done so at least a dozen times. Dementors were these black-cloaked like figures that sucked the souls out of their victims, if I remembered correctly.

I could see the connection.

“It just turned up and attacked us,” I explained and peered down at Zach. He had finally settled and was staring up at me with his flour-covered fingers in his mouth. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“A spirit that I can see and can touch things on this side of the veil? It’s nothing like I’ve seen either.”

Suddenly, the fabric-spirit quaked and rose an inch off the ground. Laurence’s arms went up again, ready to throw another spell, but the thing slunk across the room to the wall and twisted its form through the slats of the air vent, disappearing.

We stood there in stunned silence for a long moment. Waiting. Just in case it decided to come back. When there was no sign of the black tendrils, I pushed out all the held breath in my lungs. My muscles ached from being tensed during the ambush.

Was this what scared stiff felt like? Between the bruises I surely had on my lower half and the throbbing in my head from my hair being pulled, I hurt all over.

Laurence looked at our baby. “How is he? He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

“He’s fine, thank goodness. Just scared,” I said.

“I don’t blame him.”

“Me neither.” I glanced at the vent where the thing had disappeared. The chills were gone, but my body continued to tremble from lingering fear. “Maybe we should get out of here for a while.”

Laurence nodded, then spotted the ruined food scattered all over the floor and frowned. “We could get lunch?”

“I’m sorry your surprise didn’t go as planned. But I appreciate it.” Stepping over the crumpled flowers, I plucked my and Zach’s coats from the hooks near the door. “It was really thoughtful. And the flowers were gorgeous.” I wrapped the baby up the best I could and locked the backdoor’s deadbolt.

“That’s what I get for trying to be spontaneous,” he grumbled.

I placed a hand on his cheek and dipped my head to catch his gaze. “Hey,” I began, my tone gentle, “you are my hero. You came just in time and saved us both.”

That got a warm smile out of him. After he scooped a bundled up Zach from my arms, we walked into the front of the store. I was relieved to see the place was still empty.

As I flipped the open sign to close, the phone rang.

“Let the machine get it,” I said to Laurence and shrugged on my winter coat. I was almost positive it was just another Christmas order coming in. “I’m off the clock right now.”

We walked out, and I locked the door behind us. The temperature outside was so biting, it stunned you for a second. Especially after coming out of the comfort and warmth of the store.

Laurence hurried to his car, which was double-parked by the curb, and started getting Zach into his car seat. Pausing on the sidewalk, I took one last look at the shop’s tall windows. I didn’t know how I would be able to eat anything after being ambushed in my shop for the second time.

For some reason, all the feelings I’d experienced after the incident with Xaver came rushing back. The debilitating anxiety, the need to look over my shoulder all the time, heart-pounding What-if? thoughts of the situation going different and someone I loved being hurt… From this one moment, I felt like I had taken a step back from all the progress I’d made over the last few months. Because of some intruding spirit, I was lost again.

“Kay? Are you ready?” Laurence asked.

I turned and saw him sitting in the driver’s seat of his blue Toyota, window rolled down. I hurried to the passenger side and slid in. “Yeah, but I’m not sure about lunch. Unless you’re hungry, then we can go.”

“Stomach sour?”

I nodded.

“Honestly? I’m right there with you. That was too much excitement for me.”

I smiled at him, thankful to have found someone who knew me so well.

“I think we should go to Divine Magic,” he suggested. “We have a better chance of finding out what that dementor thing is by asking Arianna. She may even have something in her shop to repel it, something stronger than my protection spells.”

He frowned as he threw the car in drive, obviously upset his magic hadn’t been strong enough to shield me from danger. Again. I could almost hear his destructive thoughts in his head. I knew him and the way his brain worked.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I told him. “You know spirits are trickier. They don’t react to magic the same way the living does.”

He nodded, but his sadness lingered on his face as he drove. I don’t know where his self-doubt came from. My guess was from his childhood, but that was a part of Laurence he didn’t like talking about. Even to me. After dating for so long, he still refused to tell me anything about his parents or where he used to live. And when I pressed, all I got was a brushed off statement of, “It doesn’t matter.”

“You did a really good job with that blocking spell thing you did back there,” I said. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “A shielding spell,” he corrected. “It’s an upper level one spell Arianna just taught me. She’ll be happy to hear I got it to work.”

He turned onto Divine Magic’s street. Since it was located in downtown Fairport, like my store, it was a short drive to it. We could have walked if it wasn’t mid-December and we didn’t have a baby to worry about, but since both those things were true, walking this time was out of the question.

Laurence pulled over in front of the magic shop and parked by a meter. Because of the upcoming holidays, the town had covered all the pay meters to allow shoppers free parking to get their last-minute Christmas gifts.

We hurried getting the baby out of the car. In the short drive over, he had fallen asleep, so we settled for keeping him in the carrier this time and walked into Divine Magic. At the sound of the bell, twenty-one-year-old Arianna—accomplished level three witch, magical artifact hunter, Laurence’s mentor, and our new babysitter—strolled through the beaded curtain. When she saw us, she paused, brows pinched in confusion.

“Wait, I’m not supposed to watch Zach today, am I?” she asked. Sporting her usual dark, gothic aesthetic, with heavy eyeliner, tight ripped jeans, and a band t-shirt, she came around the counter to greet us.

Maybe it wasn’t gothic. Punk? I wasn’t sure what the kids were calling it nowadays.

“No, we’re here because there was an incident at the shop…” Laurence began. He placed Zach’s carrier on the ground.

Arianna’s gaze roamed over me. “Yeah, I was going to say you look a little shell-shocked, Kay. What happened?”

“She was attacked by a spirit,” Laurence answered for me.

“At least, I assumed it was a spirit,” I added before he could continue. “I got the same feeling I normally get when it appeared, but it could touch me and Laurence could see it, too, so now, I’m not so sure.”

Arianna leaned against the counter as she took my words in. “A spirit that can manipulate things in the living world?”

I nodded. “Dragged me across the room by my hair and turned over Zach’s crib.”

“And sliced the flowers I got you in half with its little tentacle things. Don’t forget that,” Laurence said.

“Tentacles?” She rubbed her bottom lip with a black polished nail.

“It reminded me of the dementors in the Harry Potter books. Have you read them? Black, fabric billowing…but no distinct features to it.”

“Who hasn’t read them?” she barked a laugh. Laurence looked at me, and I recoiled, knowing exactly what he was getting at. I was one of those people who hadn’t.

“I’ll get to it,” I grumbled under my breath. I really didn’t want to talk about my nonexistent leisure time right now. I was barely sleeping as it was. “But that’s not why we’re here. Remember?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to give Arianna a visual. Think…a floating, violent black handkerchief.”

Arianna stared at him blankly.

When she didn’t offer any suggestions right away, Laurence turned to me. “We could always ask Sean over in Smithfield. He’s got to know.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” she said, glaring his way. “What makes you think I don’t know?”

Laurence snapped his mouth shut, suddenly looking sickly. He was regretting his words.

“Do you know?” I pressed to try and get some of the pressure off of him. “It’d really help us out if you did. I’ve experienced many spirits in my life, and I’ve never seen anything like this one. I’m not even sure it is a spirit.”

“It is,” she replied shortly. “It sounds like a poltergeist.”

“Poltergeist? Like the movie?” Laurence asked.

Arianna rolled her eyes. “Where do you think the ideas from books and movies come from?” she asked. “The general idea is the same. They can make contact with our side of the veil and cause quite a ruckus, but a real poltergeist is much more dangerous than the ones in the movies. And here’s why.” She paused for dramatic effect, eyes flickering between us. “They were once living people.”

“Wait, what?” Laurence gaped.

“Yeah, crazy right?” she went on. “But yes. We’re talking the blackest of souls, here. Murderers, rapists, the lowest of the low. Subhuman in their life and so subspirit in their death. It’s not clear how their souls devolve after crossing over and didn’t end up in Hell with the others. But a few things are for sure.” She held up three fingers and pointed to them as she spoke. “They are weaker on this side of the veil—how it got here, I don’t know—but can still pack one hell of a punch. Two, they usually attach themselves to living host to drain their life energy—”

“Like a parasite?” Laurence asked, and I grimaced even at that wording.

“You could say that,” Arianna said. “And my guess is that this one has picked you, Kay. Being a Medium, you’re like a magnet to normal spirits, so it makes sense.”

I tried swallowing the knot in my throat. She may not know how this poltergeist found me, but I had a pretty good idea—that abandoned Victorian house and the amateur paranormal investigators that ripped a hole in the veil. I’d thought I’d stopped them from opening? Apparently, I hadn’t been quick enough.

All those shivers and uneasiness I was feeling then? This poltergeist must have crawled out of the hole and followed me home.

My gifts had been trying to warn me.

“And what’s the last thing?” Laurence asked, pointing to her last upheld finger.

Arianna’s expression changed, suddenly taking on a very serious look. “And lastly…they are, unfortunately, extremely difficult to get rid of.”

Chapter 4

I couldn’t do this again. An evil spirit after me, able to hurt me, Laurence, and Zach?

No way. I couldn’t do it again.

Heat crawled up my neck, and my head whirled. My body grew heavy, too heavy for my legs to hold, and I felt myself falling but was unable to stop it.

Someone’s hands grasped me as I collapsed, holding me up. I struggled to keep my eyes focused and not give in to the darkness creeping along the edges of my vision.

Arianna’s voice echoed in my ears. “Here’s a chair. Sit her down.”

Something slid under my backside, hitting my legs, and Laurence slowly lowered me onto it. The chair.

“I’m okay…” The words formed in my mind, but I wasn’t sure if they came out of my mouth. Everything was still woozy.

“Here, drink this.” It was Arianna again, and this time, she was pressing something wet against my lips. I let the unknown liquid slide down my throat.

When the taste of sugar and sour berries hit my tongue, I coughed and sputtered, spitting part of it back up. My senses rushed back to me in an instant, my mind clearing.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I glanced between the worried faces of my boyfriend and friend, my eyes taking a moment to focus fully.

“What was that?” I choked out. “Some kind of potion?”

Arianna laughed and put the cup on the counter. “Fruit punch. Flavored sugar water. I thought maybe your blood sugar had gone low or something. It had always worked for a school friend of mine who had diabetes.”

“Good thinking.” I rubbed my temples. My pulse thumped against my fingers there, and my head ached terribly, even more than before.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” Laurence said. He knelt by my chair, looking at me with concern. “Maybe we should go back home and you can lay down.”

“Not a good idea. It’s only a matter of time before the poltergeist will find her again and attack,” Arianna said.

“She’s right,” I agreed. “Going back to the shop and the apartment may not be the wisest idea.”

“It will find you no matter where you are eventually,” she went on. “You can’t outrun it. But at least here, there are wards and things to protect you. Including me.”

“And me,” Laurence chimed in, rising to stand again.

“Yes. That, too,” she said. “There is a small one room apartment upstairs that my aunt, and now I, stay in sometimes whenever we have late nights or early meetings here. You both are welcome to use it.”

That was super kind of her to offer, but I really didn’t want to impose.

“What about you? Where are you going to stay then?” I asked her.

“Don’t worry about me. I can sleep on two chairs pushed together. Or the floor. And I have, too.” She smiled. “Hunting for magical artifacts in underground caves and ancient ruins has made me stay overnight in some pretty unideal places.”

“That’s so cool,” Laurence gushed. “You’re like a real-life Laura Croft, Tomb Raider.”

Arianna smiled sheepishly at that. “You and your pop culture references.”

It was nonstop. I couldn’t keep up.

“Although Tomb Raider isn’t one I’ve been called before, I’ll take it. It’s better than what I was calling it. A magical artifacts enthusiast.” Arianna chuckled.

I tried to share in her happiness, but it was hard to rip my thoughts away from the fear humming through me. What was I going to do? We couldn’t just camp out here forever? That was unrealistic.

“Kay, are you feeling okay? You’ve gone pale again,” Laurence asked as he leaned close to search my face.

I looked away and turned to Arianna. If I tried to answer his question, I was afraid I’d lose it and start crying. The tears were already pressing against the back of my eyes as it was.

“You said there is a way to stop this spirit?” I asked her, my throat tight.

“Yes, it’s possible, just not an easy feat. We’re going to need help though. From a necromancer.”

I hesitated, unsure I had heard her right.

Laurence’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you just say…”

“Necromancer. Right.”

“Like zombies?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Not at all. There’s no such thing.”

Laurence glanced at me. “Really? With everything supernatural in this world, zombies are where they draw the line?” He huffed a laugh. “I don’t believe it.”

I fiddled with the cross around my neck nervously. I wasn’t sure I liked where this was heading.

Arianna turned to me. “Do you not know about this, Kay?”

I shook my head. Why would I? I only knew the general things—whatever were in shows or movies. Necromancers were supposed to be able to raise the dead. Like Laurence had said, zombies. Just thinking about walking corpses made me cringe.

“Hmm…” Arianna rubbed her lips together in thought. “Figured you would, being a Medium and all.”

I stood. Laurence grabbed my arm to help me, but I waved him away. “I don’t understand. What do they have to do with me?”

She stayed quiet for a few tense moments. Conflict flitted across her face as she debated how to say her next words. “Mediums are rare. Necromancers are even more so. And that’s because only the most powerful Mediums can become necromancers.”

The words sank in slowly, and I stared at her until the reality of what she had said hit. Necromancers—people I didn’t know existed until a second ago—were actually Mediums? Not like me. Powerful, super Mediums but still. It was a shocking bit of news to hear.

Another thing my grandmother hadn’t shared with me about my Medium gifts.

I stopped myself from thinking ill on her. It was possible she simply didn’t know about it. That was a real explanation to it. Or maybe, she didn’t want to frighten me further. Having the ability to see dead people was scary as it was. Especially as a child. It took me a while to come to terms with what I was, and after the mishap with my first and last attempt of channeling a spirit through Grandma Abigail’s teachings, there were still parts of my gift I refused to tap into.

“How is being able to raise the dead and communicating with spirits the same thing?” Laurence asked, taking the question right out of my head.

“For one thing, necromancers don’t ‘raise the dead’ in the sense you’re thinking. Remember, no zombies,” she replied. “But when you think about it, it’s actually kinda common sense. Mediums can see, communicate, and channel spirits. A necromancer is just the next step of that. They can force the spirit back into its earthly form—back into its body—where it can then be eradicated by burning or cleansing it with fire.”

“Woah,” was all he said.

Woah was right.

Arianna walked around the counter and bent down to retrieve something under the register. “But lucky for us, Aunt Marla has a leger of all the customers and sales she’s done over the years, along with their contact information. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” I asked, curious.

Arianna’s head popped back up, and she smiled. “Don’t ask.”

Laurence and I exchanged looks.

She plopped a heavy, leather-faced book on the wood, everything shaking from its massive weight. This leger was thicker than most dictionaries.

That’s a lot of customers.

Should I be worried that so many supernaturals were taking advantage of Divine Magic’s underground magical enterprise? Probably. But like most things in this world, you have to push it aside and keep on going. Otherwise, it’d keep you up every night.

Catching us staring, she laughed. “It’s a lot, right?”

We nodded in unison.

“And out of all these names, only one is a necromancer. That tells you something.” She opened it and started flipping through the pages. On each side, there was a long list of names, addresses, items, and their costs in tiny but neat cursive handwriting. Quickly, she flipped through the pages and scrolled through for a few minutes. Then, she stopped, pulled out her cellphone from her jean pocket, and dialed.

“Rhys? Hi, this is Arianna from Divine Magic. Yes, Marla’s niece.” She pointed to the phone and nodded our way, telling us Rhys was just the man she’d hope would pick up. “You’re all caught up on payments. That’s not why I’m calling. I have a job for you.”

She was quiet for a bit as he responded.

“Yep, poltergeist,” she said. “Really? I’m not surprised. There’s some crazy shit going on lately.” Another pause. “Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll tell them. But is there any way you can come sooner? This one is extra feisty.” More mumbles on the other end. “Okay. I’ll call you back.”

She hung up and pocketed the phone again.

“So?” Laurence asked, eager.

My chest hurt from the erratic beating of my heart. Breathing was getting harder, too.

She sighed. “He said he’s been extremely busy lately. Haunts have been running amok.”

“Which is true,” I said. “It’s from the veil thinning.”

She nodded. “He can come in two days at the earliest.”

“Two days?” I gasped. “That’s the twenty-third. The day before Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Eve Eve,” Laurence added as a poor excuse to lighten the mood. But when he turned to me, his smile quickly vanished and he cleared his throat.

Suddenly two days felt like years away.

We were in the middle of the Christmas rush. How was I going to run my business if I was being tormented by an evil spirit? I’d have to close until after the holidays…

“And there’s one more thing…” Arianna continued with a grimace. “The cost of Rhys’s services is pretty steep…”

“How steep we talking?” Laurence asked.

“Three large.”

I choked on my next inhale. “As in three thousand dollars?” That was all the money I just got from Mrs. Harris’s party, plus all of our savings, and that meant no company van. No expanding. I had just started climbing toward my dreams, and now I was sliding backward. And fast.

“Call him back and tell him it’s a deal,” Laurence said, tone stern.

“Laurence…” I mumbled. “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“That’s a lot of money,” I said. We hadn’t even been able to get Zach’s Christmas gifts yet. With everything going on with the shop, I just hadn’t had the time.

“This is your life we’re talking about, Kay. The money doesn’t matter. I’d pay anything to protect you.”

His voice shook a bit at the end, and I knew why. During the fiasco with Xaver, he’d felt powerless. Hopeless when trying to save me. When the protection spells he’d put on the apartment had failed, he’d taken it personally.

I meant, he did have a point. If I was being sensible, the money wouldn’t matter if I was gone. Or anything else around me that I cared about, for that matter.

“I’ll do more overtime at the hospital if I have to,” he added.

Again, it was a sweet gesture, but an unrealistic one. Laurence worked in maintenance at St. Joseph’s Hospital, and his hours were long and unpredictable as it was. With studying for his sorcerer leveling test, I’d never see him.

“And when do you expect to sleep?” I asked him. “You work like a dog as it is.”

“Look who’s talking,” he teased.

That made me clamp my mouth shut. He had me there. I was probably the worst person to be preaching to him about working too hard and not sleeping.

Laurence took my hand and stepped closer to me. His dark brown eyes captured mine, and his expression turned grave. “Kay, listen to me. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He glanced down, and when I followed his gaze, I realized that he was staring at the carrier where Zach was still snuggled under blankets and napping. I heard the meaning of his words loud and clear. Our run-in with Xaver had changed both of us—he’d possessed Laurence to trick me, after all—but out of something so terrible, we’d gotten our little Zachary.

And with this new bump in the road, we’d come out the other side. We would. Together.

“The money doesn’t matter to me. You do,” he went on and used our linked hands to pull me against him. Wrapping his arms around me, he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine with a sweet kiss.

How many nights had he held me just like this to calm me whenever my anxiety reached a new high or when the long nights with Zach caught up with me? Laying my head on his shoulder, feeling his arms holding me firmly, and inhaling the clean scent of his body wash seemed to be the only way to comfort me. Even now, I could feel my muscles loosening and the pain in my chest easing.

“So?” Arianna’s voice jolted me back to the present. Laurence and I stepped back to find her waving her cellphone at us from the other side of the counter. “Am I calling Rhys or…?”

“Yes, call him,” I said, certain this time. Although the thought of dropping that much money in one sitting was a bit sickening to think about, it had to be done.

As Arianna went to hit the redial button, I asked, “But what are we supposed to do in the mean time? Two days…that’s a long time to just sit around and wait.”

She held the phone to her ear. “Are there any other Mediums you know that may be able to give you some insight on what you can do? Maybe with a way of blocking a dark spirit from draining your energy? At least temporarily?”

“No.” The word was out of my mouth, but it was a lie. I did know another Medium actually. I just didn’t know what help she could give…

I sighed. I guess I didn’t have a choice at this point, did I? I needed help.

“Actually, I do know someone,” I said. Gosh, how long had it been since I’d visited her? A year? Maybe it was two.

Arianna threw me the thumbs up, and when murmurs came from the other end of the phone—Rhys picking up—she said in the receiving end, “Hey, Rhys, it’s me again. Arianna. Yeah, as I thought, they’re in. See you in two days.” Then, she clicked the end button and stared at us, determination in her heavily makeup-lined eyes. “Let’s get this party started.”

Chapter 5

As I closed the car door and looked at the single-floor cement building, my stomach churned and bile pushed its way up my esophagus. Too lost in the heightened feelings of uncertainty, trepidation, and embarrassment spinning through me, I hadn’t heard Laurence get out of the car or walk to my side. Like me, he stared at the sign along the top of the entry’s overhang.

Dayton Mental Wellness Center & Residential Living Facility.

I cringed, imagining what he was thinking now that my secret was out. There was a reason I never talked about my mother to anyone, even to him. My grandmother had to raise me and my siblings because my mother—as my grandmother explained it—couldn’t handle the responsibility of what being a Medium entailed. She went on to say that communicating with the dead was not a gift for the weak, otherwise it could make an unstable person finally crack. And that was exactly what had happened to my mother.

Since my gift arose young, Grandmother Abigail started teaching me right away. I had always assumed it was to prevent me from ending up like my mom. And there was always that fear—even now—that one day, I wouldn’t be able to handle it either and end up here in a bed right next to hers.

When I got old enough, I started visiting her by myself, but it didn’t take long to see what my grandmother was talking about. If she wasn’t fully sedated, she was either babbling nonsense about seeing spirits even I couldn’t see—phantoms of her mind—or thrashing violently, unable to control herself.

If you could imagine, it was hard seeing my mother that way, and so, the visits became further and far in between. The weeks turned to months, which turned to years… I saw her less and less, and it became easier to keep my mother a separate and secret that way.

But that brought guilt. And shame. Even now, heat burned my cheeks, as I waited for Laurence to say something, too conflicted to say anything first.

When his hand slid in mine, he looked over at me and said, “Are you ready to go inside?”

That surprised me. No comment on where we were? No question as to why?

He gave my hand a light squeeze, telling me he understood my reservations and wouldn’t push if I didn’t want to. And in that moment, I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I did right then. His support was what I needed, and that was one thing he always had to offer me.

Hand in hand, we walked toward the main doors. For the fifth time since we left Divine Magic, I glanced over my shoulder for any signs of the floating, tentacled evil spirit. I prayed that Arianna wouldn’t have any problem—living or nonliving—while watching Zach as we drove to the neighboring city of Chesapeake for this visit.

If anything happened to him… I couldn’t even think about it. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about it. It only made my anxiety and my pulse launch into the air.

Laurence pushed the call button beside the doors and waited. The windows were darkened on the outside, allowing patients to see out while not letting visitors see in. But if my memory served, there was a camera above the bell that linked to a security guard’s computer, so if nothing had changed since then, we should be buzzed right in.

“Yes?” an annoyed male’s voice huffed from the other end of the speaker.

A bit flabbergasted by his aggression, Laurence stumbled over his response. “U-Uh, yes. We’re h-here to see—”

“Hi.” I leaned more into the camera’s view and put on my sweetest customer service smile. “We’re here to visit my mother. Cecilia Bishop?” Saying my mother’s actual name felt sticky on my tongue, like I was asking about a stranger.

“Come right to the desk,” the gruff man said, followed by the familiar buzzing unlock of the doors. Once past the doors, the check-in desk and the guard came into view. He was just as I expected with a harsh-looking expression and uniform that mimicked a cop’s unless you really looked. Meant to intimidate more than enforce, I guessed.

“Arms and legs out,” he commanded. We obeyed, allowing him to pat us down for anything that could be used by the patients as a weapon. He even searched through my purse and had Laurence turn out his pockets. When he was done, he had us sign our names, phone numbers, time in, and desired patient’s name into a book, took our pictures from a little camera on top of his computer on the desk, and printed out ID tags for us right then and there. He we instructed we keep them clipped in sight at all times or else we’d be escorted out.

It seemed like a lot for a place that was supposed to be a hospital. It reminded me more of a prison, but I pushed that thought out of my head as soon as it formed.

When we were finally allowed to go on our way, we hurried down the hallway to room 309, as I remembered, before he could call us back for something more.

The place was just like I remembered. Outdated. Unkept. With peeling floral wallpaper, green tiled floors, and beige metal doors lining both sides of the halls. Every one bore heavy duty locks from the outside—just in case—and no windows. When I was younger, I hadn’t thought much of the place’s design choices, but now I couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving my own mother in such a place.

Laurence grimaced at the ID clipped to his shirt as we passed a bustling nurses’ station and hooked a left down another corridor. “All that seemed a little excessive to you?” he asked.

It took me a second to realize he was talking about the guard in the front and his security checks. “It must be a new protocol. I definitely don’t remember having to go through anything like that when I used to visit.”

Not even checking the numbers marking the doors, my feet moved me out of memory. At the end of the hall, there was another nurses’ station, and then another left turn we had to make.

“Do you think they had an incident here? Maybe someone brought something in?” he asked.

“Or someone tried to get out.”

Laurence’s Adam’s apple trembled as he struggled to swallow. “That’s a possibility but also a way more ominous way of looking at it. I’m starting to think you’ve been hanging out with Jade too much.”

I chuckled at that but thinking about my best friend brought along another thought with it, making me stop laughing instantly. Where were all the spirits in this place? I hadn’t encountered one since we arrived. Even outside. No tingles. Not even a hint that one could be lingering nearby.

That was one thing I could always count on here. There were plenty of lingering haunts drifting through these halls. They were the spirits who’d returned to their place of death because of its familiarity. On past visits, I would be bombarded by their questions, their pleas for help, but now, the place was barren.

Everything was eerily quiet, too. Even the nurses’ stations weren’t busy.

How odd.

“What’s wrong?” Laurence asked, coming closer to my side. “Are you nervous to see your mom again? After all this time?”

“Well, yes and yes. I am, but that’s not only it.” I paused and glanced down the hallway before us and then where we once came. Still, not a single spirit in sight. Worry rustled inside me. “This place is clean of spirits. There’s not a nonliving soul around.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “But that’s good, isn’t it? No one to bother you or slow us down?”

“Yeah, but that’s not normal. During every past visit, I had to wrestle myself away from them, there were so many. Now… it’s empty.”

“Huh.” Laurence shrugged, seeming more relieved than concerned. “Maybe it’s something to do with the veil?”

“But the veil thinning has been allowing spirits to cross over more often. The building should be overflowing with them, then. Not deserted.”

Another shrug. “Let’s just count our blessings and knock on some wood. We definitely don’t need any more trouble than we already have.”

He was right. Did it really matter why the spirits were gone? It did make things easier for me, after all. Better to just push forward and not think about it.

We continued at a slower pace. I could see my mother’s door just ahead on the right, and my stomach soured. I wasn’t sure I was ready to do this. Confront her again and the truth of her deterioration. And for the first time, reveal it to Laurence, someone I loved.

Would he think any differently about me? Would he wonder about my mental stability or Zach’s future? They were all things I worried about, so I’m sure he would consider it, too.

In front of room 309, Laurence took both my hands and pulled me to a stop. “Before we go in there, there’s something I have to tell you,” he began, making sure to keep his voice low to match the overall silence of the building.

I blinked. “Oh?”

“I know you’re anxious about this, but I wanted you to know that no matter what’s behind that door, it’s not going to scare me away. And when you’re ready, you can share this part of your life with me. It’s on your terms, on your time. I love every part of you. Even the dark, hidden stuff.”

I smiled up at him. That was one of the many things I loved about him. He wasn’t only a jokester, someone who could make me laugh at the drop of a dime with his favorite movie quotes or actor impressions, but he was super sweet, too. Understanding. Sometimes he said these things that were so moving—like now—that I was left speechless.

If only he could see himself like I did. He could be just as powerful of a spellcaster as Arianna if he believed in himself more. Maybe even more so.

“How did I get so lucky to have found you?” I said, pressing my face into his chest.

Since he was so much taller than me, he could rest his chin against the top of my head. Which he did often, like now. “You? With you and Zach, I’m the lucky one.”

“Speaking of Zach,” I began, “let’s not bring him up while in the room, okay? I’m not ready to introduce him to this part of my life yet.”

“I understand.”

We stayed like that for a few more minutes, enjoying the comfort of each other in such a tense and stressful situation. At least for me. When we finally pulled away, I turned on my heel to fully face the door and drew in a deep breath. Grabbing the handle, I pushed it open.

I stepped into the one-room living space, my eyes instantly going to my mother laying in the bed with layers of blankets piled on top of her. With eyes closed and body stiff, my heart clenched at the frail sight of her. She appeared dead; only the slight up and down movements of her chest revealed she was asleep, more than likely deeply sedated by medication. Dressed in a pink muumuu, one I had seen her in many times before, her hair was hidden by a bandana and her cheeks were sunken in more than I remembered.

Walking over to her bedside, tears prickled my eyes. My visits in the past had brought out every emotion a person was capable of feeling. Anger from the moments of feeling abandoned by her, pity for her and myself, fear for her future in this place… and the list went on and on. At this moment, I was thinking about my son and how she had no idea she was now a grandmother, and maybe never would.

I wasn’t sure if I even wanted Zach to know about her, either. Was that fair of me to do? I didn’t know. But part of me didn’t want him to see her so weak and possibly get his hopes up that she’d get better when it wouldn’t happen. Like I’d done so many times before.

I couldn’t put that pain on him.

“Mama, it’s me. Katherine.” I spoke to her unmoving form like I used to. She didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch at my voice. Just continued to breathe evenly in her peaceful, drug-induced sleep.

Why had I come here again? How was she going to help me figure out how to keep this dark spirit away when she wasn’t even conscious?

Feeling foolish and embarrassed, I headed back toward the door where Laurence waited and waved him to step back into the hall. He stayed put.

“What? What happened?” he asked.

“This was a stupid idea,” I said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have dragged you here. I don’t know why I thought she could help…”

“She’s the only other Medium you know,” he answered for me and peered her way. “And your mother.”

Moving further into the room, he ushered me back inside and closed the door behind him.

“You don’t understand,” I began. “She’s too drugged to even open her eyes…”

Behind me, there was a soft grunt, then the clearing of someone’s throat and my words died on my tongue.

Laurence’s gaze lifted. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Slowly, I turned.

For the first time since I could remember, my mother was pushing herself to sit up in bed and staring at me with completely clear eyes. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she lifted both her hands to me, beckoning me to come to her side again.

“Katherine…” she said, her voice scratchy and as low as a whisper. “My daughter…”

Chapter 6

“Mama?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but there she was right in front of me looking right at me and talking as if everything was completely normal.

“Come here. Let me get a good look at you.” She gestured for me to come closer. “It’s been too long.”

My feet moved without permission, leading me straight into her embrace. Her boney fingers gripped my arms tightly, and a grin spread across her dry lips. Sadness weighed heavy in her gaze as if this was a bitter sweet moment for her. Which was exactly what I was thinking, too. I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had been conscious enough to even form coherent sentences, and yet here she was, holding me so firmly it was like she was afraid to let go.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice hitching as her eyes glossed over with tears. “Absolutely beautiful.”

I couldn’t hold back my own sorrow any longer. My knees buckled, and I collapsed on the side of her bed, grief clutching onto me and making me hiccup as I cried.

I wanted to stop, but my body was working on its own, all the feelings I’d suppressed for so long bursting out of me like a volcanic eruption. But I just couldn’t believe what was happening. The last time we’d talked—really talked—like this was… Well, I couldn’t remember, honestly. There were times I’d even wonder if I might forget her voice, especially when the time between my visits became longer and longer apart.

Her arms slid under mine in a partial hug, partial attempt to hold me up. “I know,” she whispered, pain choking her words. “Honey, I know—but don’t worry, I’m okay. See? Come up. Get off the floor.”

She tried to lift me back up to my feet but was too weak to do much. I swallowed down my sobs and rose again, my legs wobbling still, and rubbed my wet cheek with the back of my hand.

“There. Better.” Her smile grew again as she looked me up and down and pretended to dust off my coat front and legs. When her gaze lifted to my face again, she said, “Oh Lord, it’s like looking in a mirror, ain’t it?” She gave a short laugh. “If I was in my thirties again, we could be mistaken as twins.”

She was right. Even though wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth, freckles sprinkled her cheeks, and she was skinny—too skinny, almost sickly looking—the resemblances between us were still striking. The same dark complexion and skin tone. The same eyes, right down to the almond shape and color. And I had a feeling that if she took off the bandana and maybe took a shower, her hair would even have the same unruly curly texture as mine.

When her eyes flickered to the right, her body tensed, as if she was seeing something she didn’t want to see. The sudden change in her demeanor had me hesitating. I followed her gaze to find only Laurence standing there patiently waiting for us to finish our moment.

“Mama, this is Laurence. My boyfriend,” I said, waving for him to come over. As he strode toward us, my mother’s eyes stayed fixed in the spot he was. But nothing was there.

Like me, my mother was a Medium, but if it were a spirit she was seeing, I’d be able to see it, too, and the space appeared empty to me. No tingles of a nearby soul along my skin, either.

But before I could dwell too much on it, Laurence leaned over and placed a friendly kiss on my mother’s cheek. I knew it was because I’d told him stories about my grandmother, and how everyone—stranger or not—had to give her a kiss on the cheek when they entered her house. It had been a must, and something I’d thought to be silly growing up but missed terribly now that she was gone. I guessed he’d been listening and wanted to show it with my mom.

She seemed to like that, giving him and then me an impressed look.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Her voice dropped again. “Is he a supe?”

Meaning supernatural.

“A sorcerer, yes,” I replied.

Her thin brows shot up at that. “Oh! A spellcaster. You look like a smart boy. What level?”

“Uh…” Laurence took a step back, instantly looking ashamed.

“He’s about to pass his level one’s.” I made sure to say it without affliction to show him I wasn’t embarrassed at all, and neither should he be. I didn’t care what other people thought about it. He’d improved so much in the last few months alone. I was proud of him either way.

“I’ve been studying a lot,” he answered meekly.

“Well, then, I’m sure you’ll pass. I dated a sorcerer once—” She turned to me. “Before I met your daddy, that is. And he’d always talk about how hard the spells were. And I believe it. Conjuring something out of nothing? Amazing.”

Laurence’s lips lifted. “Yeah, it can be pretty rough sometimes.”

She grabbed his hand squeezed it in reassurance. “You got this. I know you do.”

His smile widened.

I used to imagine what it would be like to have my mother back since I lost her. I’d come up with these elaborate situations in my head, dreaming up what it would be like to spend Thanksgiving together or Easter, to come home from school and see her in the kitchen cooking dinner or pushing me on the swings in the park. I had imagined her singing, her temper, the way she would say she loved me. Now, finally getting a moment with her, one that was nothing like I’d made up, I was on cloud nine.

It was like a Christmas miracle.

The stranger thing was that I couldn’t see any similarities to my grandmother at all, who was her mother. Grandma Abigail was strict, sometimes harsh, and her love could be hard to decipher at times, but it was there. My mother appeared more soft-spoken. The kind to wear her emotions on her sleeve—which had been something Grandma Abigail had commented on often, seeing it as a weakness. But I didn’t because she seemed more like me in that sense.

The worry of one day being unable to control my Medium gift and ending up in an assisted living home like this tried worming its way to the forefront, but I shoved it away.

Laurence and my mother continued talking during my mind wanderings. Their conversation had gone to the terrible food they served here, and how she was dying for some home-cooked rice and red beans, to my pastry shop and my recent expansion into catering. I only half-listened, chiming in here and there when the exchanged called for it, but what I was really doing was watching the way my mother’s eyes continued to flash to other parts of the room, her lips pressed into a tight line and her jaw clenched.

Something wasn’t right.

When her gaze switched to an empty chair in the corner by the window and her entire body stiffened, I looked over to find nothing again and I frowned.

What was she seeing?

Then another thought struck me. Everything that was going on here could be temporary. An adjustment of her medicine, or the lack of it. There was a reason she was in this place. It’d be foolish of me to think she’d been automatically fixed somehow—that I could have my mom back and we could pick up where we’d left off.

My throat tightened at the realization, and pending tears rose. I blinked to keep them back. “Mama?”

When she turned to me again, her eyes had changed. Her pupils had swallowed up her warm brown irises, making me jump back.

“What the—” Laurence moved away, too.

Fear spiked through me. I’d never seen anything like this before.

“Mama?” I called to her cautiously. Her face blanked, but those terrifyingly eyes latched onto me, seeing but not really seeing me at all.

“Laurence, get the nurse,” I said to him, pointing to the red medical call button on the wall on the other side of her bed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he ran around the bed and reached to hit it, but right before he could, my mother’s hand shot out and snatched his wrist stopping him. His eyes widened as he stared at her in disbelief. When he tried to pull back, her grip was too strong and kept him there.

He continued to tug against her, but she held him firm. Panic flashed across his face as he looked at me.

“Mama!” I cried out. “Let go of him! Let go!”

Slowly, her head turned toward me, tilting slightly, as if she was regarding me for the first time. That’s when I realized this wasn’t my mother anymore. She was channeling someone. Or something.

Laurence’s sudden cry of pain had me gasping. And then I saw it. Heard it. With a flick of her fingers, his wrist snapped. Broken.

Oh. My. God.

He reeled backward, clutching it to his chest.

“Try using magic now, sorcerer.” The voice that came out of my mother’s mouth was the complete opposite of the one she’d had before. A low, animalistic rumble. Almost indistinguishable.

Whatever had gotten ahold of her had forced its way in. Unless she’d been too weak to fight it. Or it had been too strong, which from Laurence’s broken wrist, seemed the right answer.

When she whipped my way again, she grabbed the front of my coat yanked me close. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, and her lips split in a pleased grin.

“Found you,” the spirit she was channeling said.

Terror gripped me. Was this the evil spirit, the poltergeist, who was determined to steal my life energy? Had to be. Arianna had said it would latch itself onto me until it had drained me completely. Like a leech.

“Mama, it’s me, Katherine,” I pleaded, trying to reach my mother somewhere inside. I didn’t know how much good it would do, especially with a spirit as powerful as this one, but I had to try. “You have to fight it! Please!”

Then, with its grip on my coat, it lifted me onto my toes and threw me backward hard. I landed against the door, my head hitting the wood and pain exploding. I landed on my knees,

Snarling in triumph, my mother jumped up in bed, crouching low like a wild beast about to pounce its prey.

A squealing siren blared, causing her to scurry in panic and fall off the bed, covering her eyes. A red light flashed above me, and when my gaze shot up, I found Laurence standing there, his unbroken hand on the emergency call button. The sound of hurried footsteps came from the hall. I crawled away from the door, just as it flew open, revealing five male and female nurses. They rushed into the room, grabbing my mother by the arms and legs as she began to lash out, kicking and clawing at them. She gnashed her teeth and spit, fighting with every ounce of strength she had to get free.

Working together, they were able to avoid her blows and lift her back onto the bed. One of the female nurses actually climbed on top of her, pinned her body down as the others tried to tie her limbs to the bed with straps I hadn’t noticed before.

Laurence was at my side suddenly, pushing me toward the open door. “We should go,” he whispered in my ear. I knew he was right, but I was having a hard time ripping my gaze from the scene before me. My mother might not be my mother right now, but that didn’t mean I wanted them to hurt her. She couldn’t control what she was doing.

That’s when I saw the syringe one of the male nurses was holding. He checked the dosage of medication inside and uncapped the needle. Sedative, most likely.

I didn’t want to see this, so I trudged to the door.

“Marc… Anders…” My mother gasped, her voice back to its normal tone, but strained as her body continued to struggle against the nurses.

I spun around to see her brown eyes staring at me with helplessness and desperation. She was trying to push past the spirit but was losing the battle. Her eyes continued to change from brown to black and back again.

I fought the urge to run back to her side.

“Marc Anders!” she shouted one last time before another growl rumbled up her throat. As her eyes blanked again, the male nurse plunged the syringe into her arm, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

Chapter 7

Laurence tugged me out the door and into the hallway. We sped-walked down the corridors toward the entrance, and this time, when we passed the security guard, he didn’t say a word. Maybe he wanted to, but we were rushing out the main doors before he could get anything out.

It wasn’t until we were back in the car, doors shut and locked, that I felt it safe to let out the breath I had been holding. Laurence didn’t waste any time. With his only working hand, he threw the car into reverse, pulled out of the parking spot, and sped out of the lot and onto the highway.

I touched the back of my head and looked at my fingers. No blood, but the spot was definitely tender. A nice sized bump was forming, too.

“We should go to the hospital to get your wrist checked out,” I said softly.

“No way,” he replied. “Not with that thing following us.”

I guessed he had a point, but an angry purple bruise had already painted his hand and up his forearm. It looked extremely painful, and from the way he was holding it against his chest, it seemed he’d lost most mobility in his fingers as well.

Sour bile rose up my throat. The spirit had snapped his wrist like it had been nothing more than a toothpick.

Opening the glove compartment, I pulled out the bottle of over-the-counter pain killers I had stashed in there for emergencies. I twisted the cap off.

“How many do you want?” I asked him. “Three?”

He took the entire bottle from me and poured a bunch of pills onto his tongue. Then, using his knees to balance the wheel, he took an old water bottle from his car door holder, used his teeth to pop the top, and took a huge swig.

“You’re going to get a stomachache,” I muttered as I snatched the bottle back, closed it, and put it away.

After swallowing, his face twisted in disgust. “I’ll take it over the pain of this wrist.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that. From the swelling and bruising, it looked like he’d probably need something a lot stronger than some glove compartment Motrin.

“We’re going back to Divine Magic,” Laurence said. “We’re safer there.”

Slumping back into the seat, my mind raced with everything that had just happened. Those moments when my mother had been nervously looking about the room…had it been because she had sensed or seen the poltergeist and I hadn’t? Must have been. But if it could hide from me, that made this whole situation even more dangerous. I wouldn’t be able to see it coming.

We drove for some time in silence. Laurence drove over twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. He normally stuck to the rules when it came to driving, but I understood his sudden need to be where he believed was safe.

“Marc Anders?” he said unexpectedly, eyes fixed on the road.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been trying to rack my head about it since we left, but I don’t understand what it means. Or why the poltergeist said it. Marc Anders? What does that mean? Is it a name?”

“I think so,” I said, “but I don’t think it was the poltergeist that said it. I think it was my mom. I think she was fighting the thing.”

“Then that’d mean it was something she wanted us to know. It’s important.”

I nodded. “I think so, too.”

We turned off the exit for downtown Fairport, and only then did Laurence slow his speed. I had to admit, being in the city made me feel a little better. Safer.

“We’ll ask Arianna. Maybe she’ll know what it means,” he said.

“And maybe she’ll know what to do about your wrist.”

He glanced down at it and winced. “Yeah, I don’t know how I’ll be able to take the level one test now. I may have to reschedule it again.”

I frowned. I knew that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew better than me about magic and the need of both hands.

“We’ll see what Arianna can do.” I gave him a reassuring smile.

After parking in front of the store, we walked inside. At the sound of the bell chiming, Arianna appeared from behind the beaded curtain, holding Zach in her arms. Seeing my baby again made me flush with relief, and I strode over to take him. She gladly passed him over, and I pressed my lips against the top of his fuzzy head.

“How’d it go?” she asked, looking us over. When she spotted Laurence’s wrist, she sucked in a sharp breath. “That good, huh?”

“The poltergeist followed us there,” Laurence explained. “It forced its way into Kay’s mother…”

Her eyes widened in shock. “What?”

Laurence glanced my way, silently asking if I wanted to chime in.

I sighed and swayed side to side as Zach chewed on his fingers. “She was channeling it. Unwillingly.”

“And it broke your wrist?” she asked Laurence.

“And threw Kay across the room.”

Again.

“Looks like you have a pretty powerful poltergeist on your hands here,” she said.

“There’s another thing,” Laurence said. “Before we left, she had said Marc Anders. Kay thinks her mom was trying to tell us something. Like a clue. Does that mean anything to you?”

Arianna shook her head. “Not off the top of my head, but there’s one way to find out.”

“One of your aunt’s books again?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Nope. Just the handy, dandy internet. We’re not savages.”

She spun around and disappeared into the back room again, only to return a minute later with a laptop in hand. Opening it, we walked over to her side and peered at the screen. She typed in the name Marc Anders into the search bar.

The second she hit GO, the screen filled with the name, mostly from articles or news captions. And other reoccurring words followed after it.

Murderer. Serial killer. The Westwood Stalker.

Icy-cold dread snaked through me, making me shiver.

“Looks like Marc Anders’s has been around the block,” she said, quickly skimming the information on the screen.

From what I could gather during her rapid clicking, Marc Anders was known for following his victims—all women between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five—kidnapping them in broad daylight, holding them in a large storage container in the back woods on his property, and repeatedly raping them before killing and burying them in shallow graves.

“Why would your mom say the name of a known serial killer?” Laurence asked me from over my shoulder.

“You said she was channeling the spirit at the time she said the name, right?” Arianna asked, and I nodded. “Do you remember me saying that poltergeists were once souls of those who’d been so corrupt, something had happened during their transition after death?”

“You mean…” My words trailed off as the information sank in.

“Yep. We now have the name of our spirit.”

“And…that’s a good thing.” Laurence’s tone revealed he was unsure.

Arianna rolled her eyes. “Follow me, here. To get rid of a poltergeist, the spirit must be joined again with its earthly body and burned, in order for it to be cleansed from the living world and the spirit world.”

“So, now that we have the spirit’s name, we can find his body,” I finished.

“And burn it,” Laurence concluded.

“Exactly.” Arianna pointed to something on her screen. “And it says here, Anders was captured, sentenced to life, where he died only two years later during a prison riot. He’s buried in Westwood cemetery.”

“That’s only thirty minutes from here,” he replied.

She snapped her laptop shut. “All right. Looks like it’s time to go grave robbing.”

I blanched. What? Grave robbing?

Laurence seemed just as taken aback. “Uh… You seem a little too excited about digging up some guy’s bones.”

She shrugged, unfazed. “It’s not my first time disturbing a grave. Most cursed and charmed objects are in tombs or buried with the dead.”

It was still hard for me to wrap my head around. Arianna, who was such a young girl, had spent her college years traveling the world and stealing magical pieces from some pretty powerful people, dead or alive.

“Kay, you can stay here, if you want. It’ll be safer for you with all the wards I have on the place,” she suggested. “Laurence and I can go and…”

“We can’t leave them alone,” Laurence interjected. “Not with the poltergeist determined to get to her. And no offense but I don’t think your protection spells will be able to hold it off forever. The thing snapped my wrist like it was nothing. Kay doesn’t have magic. She can’t defend herself.”

“Okay, then you stay with her,” she said shortly. “I’ll go alone.”

Laurence took a minute to consider this, but then he said, “I don’t like that idea, either. It’s already dark. You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

Arianna let out an aggravated sigh. “I can take care of myself, you know. Level three, remember?”

“That’s not the point.”

As they continued to bicker back and forth and talk about me as if I wasn’t standing there, annoyance jabbed at me. I was getting tired of this constant need to bend over backwards to protect me. I was tired of being left behind. Even Jade had made me stay at the vampire club, Red, to keep me away from Xaver, and that hadn’t gone to plan.

After months of tiptoeing around my anxiety, I was done being coddled. This spirit was attached to me. It was my problem, and I wasn’t going to be hiding from it and allowing others to fight my battles for me.

My grandmother’s words echoed from my memory. You’re only as strong as you let yourself believe. Believe you can move mountains and you will.

As much as I loved and missed my mother, I couldn’t become like her.

“I’m going,” I said, snapping them both out of their squabbling. They stared at me in disbelief, but I ignored it and passed Zach over to Laurence’s good arm. “Me staying here means I can lead the poltergeist to Zach, and I’m not risking that. I’ll go, get Anders’s remains, and come back.”

“No,” Laurence replied shortly. “Not a chance. It’ll follow you.”

“I’ll go with her,” Arianna said, chin lifted. “With your broken wrist, I’m the better one of the two of us to spellcast if it comes down to it.”

That was a nice way of putting it. Not because she was more powerful or a higher level than him but because of his wrist. Since she had been working with him for some time on his magic and readying him for his test, I suspected she was doing all she could to not hurt his ego any more than he did on his own. Confidence was a big part of the craft, or at least that’s what I’d been told. It was Laurence’s lack of certainty in himself that was holding him back.

From his hesitance and narrowed eyes, it appeared he wasn’t on board with Arianna and my plan, but after a moment, he sighed, defeated. “Fine. I’ll stay behind.”

“Great!” Arianna perked up instantly. “Now, let’s get something to splint that wrist and help speed up the healing. Then, I’ll get the shovels out of the back.”

After constructing a makeshift splint and sling from a broken crate and a shredded bedsheet, Laurence drank something resembling tea but smelling nothing like it and claimed the pain had eased. He still made grunting noises whenever he’d moved too fast or bumped his hand against anything.

But despite all that, he swore he would be able to stay behind with Zach.

We took Arianna’s Volkswagen Beetle this time, a cute little white thing with a canvas roof and tiny interior. The typical car I’d expect for a young woman to drive. Until she explained it had been her Aunt Marla’s car that she’d inherited after her death.

Arianna’s personality was on the inside, with fast food containers, extra sweaters and jackets, and loose CDs littering the front and back seats.

As we drove toward Westwood, I picked one of the CDs up and examined the cover. It was mostly red and black, with the silhouette of a crow on the front. Gothic. Dark. And I couldn’t even pronounce the band’s name.

Kat… Kat…a…ton….

“It’s a Swedish metal band,” Arianna confessed, snatching the CD from my hand and tossing it in the back seat. Then, she reached over to the stereo and turned it to a Christmas music station. An instrumental version of Oh Holy Night played softly from the speakers. “I’m sure it’s nothing like what you listen to.”

“And how do you know that?” I tried not to sound offended when really, her comment irked me. “I might like it. I’m always up for trying new things.”

She slid me a sideways glare. One that had “yeah right” all over it.

“What?” I asked.

“You remind me of my aunt,” she said, hands tight on the steering wheel. “The one who always has her ducks in a row. Always manages to have everything together, even when things are falling apart. Not like that’s a bad thing,” she quickly added.

Me? Was that really how I came off to people? Because I usually felt like everything would cave in and combust at any moment.

That organized, level-headed person? That sounded more like my grandmother than me. Growing up, she always seemed to know just what to do and what to say. I wanted to be like that—that strong. But with all the chaos in my life, my anxiety and growing fears…

“But your aunt also ran an underground black-market business, didn’t she? Even she was diverse,” I said.

Arianna chuckled, her body relaxing some. “I guess you’re right. She also was one tough cookie. Strict. Always pushing me to do better. Do more. I used to think I could never please her. It was hard to handle sometimes.”

Now she was really describing my grandmother.

“But it was better for me in the long run,” she went on, eyes fixed on the road. “Because of her, I became a level three witch and was able to travel the world, something I’d always wanted to do. I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish half as much without her constant nagging.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

I hadn’t even thought about it before, but Arianna and I shared a life without our mothers. We were also both raised by another family member, then had ended up losing that person, too.

Although it seemed she was handling the loss well, I could see the pain she suppressed, laying underneath. Could hear it in her voice when she spoke about her aunt and the complicated love they had for one another. I understood it, had felt it myself, and my heart ached with empathy for her.

“Not saying that’s you,” she sputtered suddenly. “I didn’t mean to say you’re overbearing or annoying like that or anything.”

I laughed. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.”

She sighed in relief.

“What you’re saying actually reminds me of my grandmother. She was much the same way—strict, pushy, but wanted the best for me. She raised me, you know. After my mother was put in the home.” My gaze dropped to my lap, and I fiddled with my gloved hands. “I miss her. A lot.”

“But can’t you still see her? Channel her or something?”

I frowned. “I always thought that once she passed, she’d find a way to come back and visit me, give me comfort or guidance like she did while alive, but she never has. I haven’t seen her since.”

“That sucks,” she replied. She rubbed her lips together in thought. “How about channeling her? If she won’t come to you on her own, bring her out that way?”

“It’s not that easy…”

My mind drifted back to the day I had tried channeling for the first and last time. The terrible whooshing sound. The wind whipping through my grandmother’s dining room, knocking most of her china off the shelves and causing her antique lighting fixture to sway. Her frantic shouts as the candles’ flames erupted, almost singeing my hair, then extinguishing completely. The quaking ground beneath our feet that made everything on the table rattle…

And then the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen, the old pocket watch we’d found in the house’s attic rising in the air, and pale fingers materializing around it, connected to an equally pale arm. A body began to fade into view, piece by piece, until a man’s wrinkled face peered down at me. All that was left of his eyes were black holes.

I’d screamed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, my grandmother had rushed around the table, ripped the watch out of the soul’s hand, and threw it into the roaring fireplace, where it crackled and popped from the heat. Then, she snatched me by the arm and pulled me in close, wrapping her body around me like a shield. I had squeezed my eyes shut, afraid to see what would happen next, but when the wind and sounds died down, she finally stepped away and the man on the table was gone.

I had no idea what had happened, but it had been traumatizing enough for me never want to try it again. Even my grandmother seemed shaken from it, and nothing had ever scared her. We never talked about it or attempted it again.

“No…” My voice trembled as I pushed the memory away, back to where it belonged, and tried to shake off the terror remembering it again always stirred. “I-I can’t do it.”

Noticing my dismay, Arianna clamped her mouth shut, a sign that she wasn’t going to push on it further. And I was thankful. I didn’t think I could tell her what had happened that night if I tried.

All I knew for sure was that I would never try to channel a spirit again.

My gaze drifted back to the scenery passing by my window. The minutes passed, and silence settled in between us as we continued to drive.

A faint buzzing and clicking sounded, and I peeked over to see a CD sliding into the disk slot on the dashboard and Arianna fiddling with the dials again. Suddenly, drums pounded at such a loud volume and with such speed, I felt the rapid beats in my chest. A man’s low rumbling scream came next. It didn’t even sound like words, just one long animal’s growl.

I flinched. This was music? I couldn’t see the allure.

Did that mean I was officially getting old?

That was a hard reality to come to terms with.

Studying my reaction, Arianna grinned shyly. “So?” she asked. “What do you think?”

I tried with all my might to keep my dislike off my face. How was I going to say the music was terrible without admitting she’d been right?

I paused. “It… It grows on you, I guess.”

Then, both knowing I was full of it, we burst into a fit of laughter.

Chapter 8

Westwood Cemetery was right off the town’s exit and much smaller than the one where Sean had performed the demon cure in Fairport. But smaller was better since we had to search all the tombstones for the name Marc Anders.

We carried the shovels and flashlights Arianna had brought through the rows and rows of gravesites, fighting against the icy breeze and frigid temperatures. Here, a light powder of snow coated the ground, giving the cemetery a peaceful and morbid beauty.

After about thirty minutes of scanning the names on each stone, my face hurt from the cold and I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers.

“Here!” Arianna shouted and waved her arm from a few rows away. “I think I found him.”

I hurried over as fast as my half-frozen body would allow. The grave she was standing over was marked by a footstone, no bigger than a cereal box. She crouched low and ran a gloved hand over it to brush more of the snow away. The name Marc R. Anders stared back at us, along with a death year matching the online description we’d found.

The reality of what we were about to do smacked into me and my stomach twisted. Was I really about to dig up a person’s dead body in the middle of the night? This was the exact opposite of a crazy-free, no-supernatural holiday. But, with a poltergeist after me and threatening to hurt my family, I guessed we were far past that now.

I needed to focus on making it to Christmas alive, instead.

Arianna rose again, turned my way, and said, “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

She seemed way too comfortable with what we were about to do, but I nodded, trying to mimic her certainty, and pushed my shovel into the hard soil. She copied, using the heel of her sneaker to force the blade down further.

As we worked, we made sure to keep any excavated dirt in a pile close by, so when it came to filling the hole again, it’d be a quick and easy process. Tirelessly, we dug. Since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done physical labor to this extent, my muscles screamed in protest. My back ached and my arms cramped, but at least I wasn’t cold anymore. I was even beginning to sweat.

We kept at it for what felt like forever. Until the next spike of my shovel hit something solid and then gave way with a crack. Arianna and I exchanged knowing looks.

Finally. We’d reached him.

“We only got about four feet down,” I said, surprised it hadn’t been buried the full six feet like it was supposed to be.

She shrugged. “Could be one of two things. Either he was buried in haste, or someone else exhumed his body before us. Let’s hope it’s the former.”

“Why?”

“If he’s missing body parts it hurts our chance of fully banishing him from this plane.”

Oh God… Body parts… Just thinking about that made nausea stir.

I watched as Arianna used her shovel to scrape the thin layer of dirt off the top of the casket, and asked, “How do you know so much about this? About poltergeists and banning evil spirits?”

She gestured for me to step to the side, ignoring my question for the moment. “As you saw from your first hit, the casket’s weak from age and decay. You don’t want to be standing on it or it may collapse.”

I listened and stepped closer to the dirt wall. Then she sighed. “My mother worked a lot with dark magic, so I picked up a thing or two.”

“Oh…” I hadn’t known that. But then, that was probably something you didn’t go around telling people. From the hard expression on her face, it was a good assumption she didn’t like talking about it, either. I tried to lighten the subject. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a chance.”

A smile flickered across her lips. Not saying anything more on the topic, she thrust the blade of the shovel into the side of the casket. Gripping the handle tightly, she was about to push it down to release the seal but paused. Her gaze shot to the sky above us.

“W-What?” Dread shot through me. I glanced up, seeing nothing but a starless sky. Was someone coming? I strained to listen for any damning sounds but heard nothing over the cars speeding down the nearby overpass.

That’s when a chill danced along my spine. The all-too-familiar kind that told me a spirit was close.

I tensed.

Seeing a spirit in a graveyard shouldn’t be unusual, but since Arianna had reacted, too, and that could only mean one thing.

She could see it, too.

Dropping the shovel, she threw her hands out. A huge fireball, like a miniature sun, appeared in the center of her palms and flew out of our hole in the ground, disappearing into the night. She twisted, eyes locking on something else above us, and she flung another massive ball of fire that way. The heat of it was so intense, I stumbled back until I hit the dirt wall.

Oh no. It had found me again.

“Get the body!” Arianna shouted as she continued to shoot fire into the air. “I’ll hold it off.”

What? She wanted me to—

I looked at the casket. “I can’t.”

“You have to!”

As another fireball ignited the darkness, I spotted the tendrils of the spirit hovering in the darkness. And close. Its silky blackness blended in perfectly with the shadows. How Arianna was able to see it at all was a miracle.

I peered back at the disintegrating box where a decomposing human body lay, and my insides roiled. I really didn’t want to do this.

Another wave of heat pushed past my face and red light flared as Arianna hurled another fireball spell at the spirit. A little too close for comfort again.

With the shovel in hand, I hopped over the casket and plunged the blade into the seal, like Arianna had done. A small twist and it popped open. Dropping to my knees, I placed both hands on it.

Oh, God… I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

“Hurry!” Arianna gasped as light and heat continued to flash above us.

I held my breath and shoved with all my strength. The lid slid off.

I had expected the worst. Something you see in the movies with gore and pieces of flesh. Bugs. Zombies. But to my surprise—and relief—I was staring down at what looked like bits of clothing and a pile of dirt. Upon closer inspection, I could see pieces of bone, too, including what was left of a skull and teeth. Everything looked incredibly fragile like it might collapse if disturbed in any way.

For a second I wondered if this entire trip had been for nothing. Could a necromancer even use this? There was almost nothing left to him.

“We need to make a run for it,” Arianna’s hurried whisper had my pulse galloping. “When I say go—”

Panicked, I grabbed the corners of the blanket holding Marc Anders’s remains, and pulled them up to the middle into a makes-shift sack. I held it tight, sure that whatever bones that had been left were now probably just dust like the rest of him.

She grabbed my coat and half-shoved me out of the hole. “Go!”

Heart pounding, I scrambled out the rest of the way and dashed for the Beetle. Seeing it in the distance, I hoped my old track training from high school would somehow kick in and help me out.

With that thought, my feet gained speed, flying across the ground at such a speed, it was as if they weren’t even touching it at all. An invisible force pushed me toward the car, closing the distance rapidly, and I cried out as the winter air bit into my cheeks and nose. Before I knew it, I was opening the door and flinging myself and the bag of remains into the passenger seat.

It wasn’t until the door slammed shut that the speeding sensation stopped, leaving my head whirling and struggling to catch up. That’s when I saw Arianna sprinting toward the driver’s side, her legs a blur as she ran. In the blink of an eye, she was next to me, throwing the car into drive. The tires squealed as they tried to grip the frozen ground but soon caught hold, pushing us into our seats.

Arianna peeled out of the cemetery, heading right for the highway, merging without even bothering to look. That got us a very angry beep from the guy she’d cut off, but neither of us cared. We wanted to put as much distance between us and that spirit as possible.

When she checked the rearview mirror for the hundredth time, she blew out a breath and glanced at me. “You okay?” she said as she tried to catch her breath.

I was still panting, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Yeah. You?”

She nodded. “Did you get him?”

I pointed to the wrapped up bundle in my lap.

“Good.”

I swallowed, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. “What happened back there?”

“He found you again,” she replied simply. “Although it’s a bit scary how fast he can track you. I’m guessing it’s because you’re a Medium.”

Yeah, being one did make me easier for spirits to spot. Like moths to a flame.

“But that only confirms that the spells and protective wards on the shop are working. He only seems to be able to get to you once you leave.”

Also true.

“And what was that unnatural speed before?” I asked. “As we ran to the car. It reminded me of the Roadrunner.”

“A speed spell,” she replied and stepped on the gas a little harder. “A level two. Can make people or objects faster or slower. Depending on what you need. But it’s temporary. And can only be used on one thing at a time.”

“Quick thinking,” I said, “but I’m not sure if what I have in here is actually going to help us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s pretty much dust now.”

She chuckled. “That’s okay. As long as we have his dust, the necromancer should be able to use it. I would assume he’s a pretty strong one.”

Well, that was a relief.

“Just hold on to it because if we lose even an ounce, it could hurt our chances of getting rid of Marc for good.”

“Okay.” I gripped the corners of the blanket a little tighter and tried not to think that it was what was left of an actual person on my lap. To distract myself, I peered through the windshield at the brightening sky as we headed south-east back toward Fairport.

In the gleam of our headlights, a shadow darkened the road ahead of us, like the silhouette of a bird or some other flying creature. Since there weren’t many cars on the highway at this early hour, it couldn’t be from another vehicle. But whatever it was, it was keeping its distance somehow, even with Arianna’s lead foot.

Had to be a trick of the eye.

Leaning forward in the seat, I squinted. “Do you see that, there?” I pointed to the strange patch of darkness where the lights couldn’t penetrate. “What is that?”

Arianna peered at it, too, her brow furrowing. “Not sure…”

Just then, the darkness flew at us. I screamed and ducked as it knocked into the windshield so hard the glass shattered, showering us with shards. Arianna swerved, the tires squealing as she hit the brakes at the same time. I squeezed my eyes closed as the car spun out of control, and in those few fearful moments, all I could think about was Zach and Laurence and how I didn’t want to die and leave them behind.

When the car jerked to a stop, I lifted my head, gasping for air. Arianna’s forehead was pressed against the steering wheel, her dark hair tossed around her face. She wasn’t moving.

Thinking the worst, I reached out and tapped her arm. “Arianna?”

She groaned and relief flooded me. As she turned to me, I noticed the gash across her forehead and the blood traveling toward her brow. My heart seized with fear.

Her shaky hand found the cut and the blood. Examining her now red and glossy fingertips, she cursed.

Right then I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. I wasn’t cut out for this stuff. All the chaos and danger. I wasn’t like Jade; I wasn’t a fighter. I was a peacekeeper. A baker. All these knuckles came in contact with was dough.

I couldn’t keep doing this.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, my voice trembling.

“Yeah… I think so. Just a scratch. We’re just lucky we didn’t hit anything,” she said. “That thing isn’t going to let us take its body without a fight. We gotta get out of here.”

I agreed.

Something slammed into Arianna’s side of the car. I screamed again as the car rocked off two wheels and came back down with a loud boom and whine.

“Christ, it’s trying to flip us!” she shouted.

I glanced around wildly, trying to find something that could help us.

I wished Jade was here. She always seemed to come to my rescue when I needed her.

That reminded me… My rosary. I could use it to contact Elijah, her guardian angel. He could help us.

With unsteady hands, I pulled my grandmother’s rosary over my head and bunched the beads in my palm. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on the words I needed to say to call on him, but the anxiety of the situation was blocking me. What had he told me to do again? I needed to pray, right? Say his name and—

Another crash into the side of the car. My entire body smacked against the door, causing the rosary to fly out of my hand and out the broken windshield. The moment the wheels touched down again, the necklace slid across the car’s hood and dropped onto the ground, out of sight.

Oh no…

There went our last hope of being rescued.

Chapter 9

Arianna wrenched the key in the ignition back and forth while pressing down on the gas. The car sputtered, unable to fully turn over, and the headlights flickered on and off.

“Start, dammit!” Arianna banged the steering wheel. “Start!”

Wind whipped into the car through the opened windshield. The next time the car’s lights flashed on, floating black wisps of the spirit appeared in front of us, and Arianna and I screamed.

Suddenly, those tendrils shot out, wrapped around my arms, and yanked me out through the broken windshield. Jagged pieces of glass scratched my chest and stomach as I was dragged out, and I kicked, trying with everything I had to make it let go.

Something clamped around my legs. “I got you, Kay!” It was Arianna. She had jumped on top of me and was trying to pull me back.

The spirit rose, taking me with it and lifting me three feet off the hood. The tentacles around my arms pulsed, and it felt like dozens of tiny needles were puncturing my skin. An ache began to build in the center of my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. Exhaustion crept into my limbs, and my head fogged. Unconsciousness threatened to take hold. Soon, the feeling of Arianna’s grip became lost altogether.

The spirit was draining me. Of my lifeforce, just like Arianna had said.

As my mind floated between aware and not, a small zap of energy flared behind my eyes. Being the only real thing I could feel at the moment, I held onto it. And when it grew, quickly rushing through every inch of me and filling my body with strength, I gasped.

My eyelids flew open, and I was shocked to see the spirit, the highway, and the horizon—absolutely everything—outlined in brilliant shades of color. Each one pulsed in its own way, too. The trees and brush on the side of the highway were surrounded in different greens, which swayed slowly. A deep purplish-black color clung to the poltergeist and vibrated angrily, as if to say this was a malicious being, one that didn’t belong in this plane. Which were both true.

What was even more terrifying was the whitish glow clinging to my own skin.

It reminded me of the golden hue I always saw around Jade—and later on, around Elijah—hinting that they were higher beings. Angels. But I’d never seen it on other spirits or people. Or myself.

What was happening?

When the whiteness spread over the blanket-bag of Marc’s remains still in my hand, it began to tremble. As if the fragments of bone and dust inside were moving.

Right then, the tendrils around my arms loosened and slid away. I fell, smacking into the car’s hood with such force all the air shot from my lungs.

“Kay!” Arianna yelled.

I groaned, my vision blurring momentarily. But when everything came into focus again, the strange pops of color were gone. The world was back to normal to my eyes.

The car door shut, and suddenly, she was standing by me. I could see her dirt-caked sneakers without lifting my head, which was pounding mercilessly.

She grabbed the bag from my hand and twisted the ends into a sturdy knot. Good thing, too, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold onto it.

“Can you move?” she asked, placing her hands on my shoulders. “We gotta get you back in the car before it decides to come back.”

It flew off?

That was lucky.

Slowly, I pushed myself up on shaky arms. That’s when I noticed my grandmother’s rosary on the ground near Arianna’s shoes.

I let her help me onto my feet again. My legs sagged under my own weight, and I was so tired, I feared I might pass out right there on the highway. Throwing my arm over her neck, she half-carried me to the passenger seat.

“Sorry for getting you tangled up in this mess,” I muttered to her, my voice as weak as the rest of me. Now I was starting to understand why Jade looked so hurt when Laurence had told her to stop bringing her problems to our door. It’s not like she’d done it on purpose. And hurting someone I cared about was the last thing I wanted to do.

She didn’t appear fazed by my apology at all. “I offered my help,” she said casually and tossed Marc’s remains into the back seat with the rest of her junk. “Besides, I was missing the danger and adventure of my scavenging days.”

The moment she closed the door, my eyes started to drift close, the fatigue coupled with the pain too great to fight anymore. I hadn’t even heard Arianna get into the car. Or manage to get it started. It wasn’t until I felt her pushing something into my hand that I woke again to find us speeding down the road, now closer to the coast and Fairport, and the sky ablaze with the rising sun.

And the thing she’d put in my hand? It was my grandmother’s rosary.

Thankful to have it close again, I let myself fall back into sleep’s waiting embrace.

Laurence’s concerned voice floated to my ears, bringing me back to the present. “She’s been asleep for too long. I’m going to wake her.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” Arianna shot back. “Let the poor woman sleep. She needs it.”

“What if she has a concussion?” he hissed. “You’re not supposed to let someone with a concussion go to sleep.”

“I know that,” she replied in an angry whisper. “But I’m not cruel. She was exhausted.”

I peeked an eye open to see I was in a small studio with only a sink, heating plate, lamp, and box of various knickknacks. I was laying on the one piece of furniture in the room, a grey pull-out sofa.

Not seeing me awake, Laurence and Arianna continued to argue just beyond the doorway, at the top of the stairs.

I must have been back at Divine Magic, in that apartment Arianna had offered us before.

“How is anyone supposed to get any sleep around here with you two?” I said and got up. They turned to me.

“Oops. Sorry,” Arianna said. “How are you feeling?”

I noted the butterfly stitch Band-Aids on her forehead.

“Better…” But honestly, my entire body ached. My muscles clenched painfully with every step. Something shifted on my stomach as I moved, and I paused, lifting my shirt a little. When I saw the pieces of gauze taped to my skin, I winced, remembering the windshield I was yanked through. “Where’s the baby?”

Laurence tapped the baby monitor hooked to his belt. “Sleeping, like his mama was.”

I was about to ask him how he’d gotten the monitor from our place, but then remembered we’d gotten one for Arianna for the times she babysat here.

My gaze swung to a nearby window, where the silver moon hung high in the dark sky.

Wait… Hadn’t the sun been rising a moment ago? I distinctly remembered the horizon lightening during our struggle with the spirit.

But then, that would mean…

“You slept through the entire day,” Arianna explained, somehow reading my thoughts. “But don’t worry. It hasn’t been as eventful as this morning was.”

I’d lost an entire day?

“We’re pretty sure the poltergeist drained you a bit. It’d make sense why you were suddenly so tired,” she went on.

That’s what I was thinking, too. But then why had it suddenly let go and disappeared? It had me right where it wanted me, yet it flew off. It didn’t make sense to me.

Did that weird colorful filter over my eyes have anything to do with it, I wondered. And the bag of Marc’s remains… Were the insides really trembling or had I imagined that?

As we started down the stairs, Laurence held onto me to help me with each step, and I was grateful. My knees were still a little wobbly.

In the shop, I found Zach sleeping peacefully in his pack and play behind the counter. The other baby monitor was beside the register, along with a large crystal and a lit candle. Must have been another protective measure from Arianna. I’d have to ask her about it later.

As we walked further into the storefront of Divine Magic, Arianna pushed in front of us, staring at a shadow outlined in the window of the door. As if someone was trying to peer past the shade and see inside.

“Someone’s here?” I whispered. Reaching up out of reflex, I felt the rosary around my neck again and squeezed the cross. I really owed Arianna for getting it back for me.

“Aren’t you closed?” Laurence asked, skeptical.

She nodded. “And I don’t have any appointments. Must be a curious passerby. Give them a minute. They should go away.”

A knock on the door. Zach began to squirm, waking from the noise.

“Maybe not…” Cautiously, she crept toward it. Holding her hand up and muttering in Latin, a cloud of artic air appeared in her palm. Just in case.

With everything that had happened, it looked like we were all a little skittish.

As she ran her finger along the doorframe, she whispered the spells needed to undo the magical locks she’d placed on it. Then she grabbed the handle and ripped the door open.

There stood a middle-aged man, with a long trench coat on. The fedora on his head was tilted low to conceal most of his face, and he held a duffle bag in hand.

He said nothing as he slowly lifted the hat, revealing cloudy, completely whited-out eyes.

Arianna stepped back. I gasped—I couldn’t help it. It was a shocking thing to see.

Ignoring our gawking, he said in a gruff voice, “Good evenin’, all. I was told you had a little spirit problem you needed help with?”

Chapter 10

The necromancer.

“Rhys.” The spell extinguished in Arianna’s hand, and instead, she waved for him to come in. He did. After reinstating the magical locks on the door again, she said, “I thought you weren’t able to come for another day. We didn’t expect you—”

“Yes, well, the misses decided last minute to visit family for the holiday, so I took the red-eye over,” he said. “I tried to call the store, but since no one picked up, I left a few messages.”

Arianna threw Laurence a glare. He shrugged as his way of saying, “I’m not going to take a business call. I’m not a secretary.”

She sighed and turned back to Rhys. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. And yes, our spirit problem is getting out of hand.”

He pointed to the gash on her forehead. “I can tell.” When his gaze swiveled my and Laurence’s way, he paused. Without irises or pupils, it was hard to tell who he was looking at exactly, but unease ran through me at his unnatural, eerie stare. I’d never met a necromancer before, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they all had eyes like that. Could he be blind?

Stepping toward us, his head dipped, as if he was skimming us over, seeing something normal eyes couldn’t.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t blind. Maybe it was enhanced vision?

“You’re the one this spirit latched onto?” he asked.

Laurence and I both stammered, unsure who he was talking to. When he slanted his head my way, I nodded.

“Y-Yes… It’s me. I’m Kay, and this is my boyfriend, Laurence,” I replied, rambling in my embarrassment. “On my walk home one night, I found some college kids chanting and opening the veil unknowingly. I stopped them before it got out of hand—at least I thought I had. The next day, I was attacked by this thing.”

“Is that your baby?” he asked and pointed to the crib behind the counter.

I glanced at Zach, who was awake now, kicking his arms and legs and babbling. “Yes.”

To my surprise he smiled, his entire face lighting up. “He’s about the same age as my grandson. Maybe a little younger. What’s his name?”

“Zachary,” I said.

“Ah, my grandson is Paulie.” His gaze switched to Laurence and his broken wrist still in a sling. “You all look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“You have no idea,” Laurence grumbled.

“Poltergeists can be powerful and relentless spirits, which it looks like you all can attest to,” he said. “Can I ask what supernatural you are?” The question was directed toward me.

“I’m a Medium,” I said.

He paused, brows pinching as if he wasn’t sure I was telling him the truth. “And you weren’t able to get rid of this spirit on your own?”

His question threw me off guard. What was he implying? That this was easy?

If I could reason with the thing, you think I wouldn’t have done it by now?

“Obviously not,” Laurence snapped.

“Hmm…” Rhys rolled his shoulders back. “Well, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I just need the payment.”

I peeked at Laurence. That’s right, the three grand…

Without hesitating, Laurence reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded check, and passed it to him. Not even bothering to look at it, he stuffed it into his coat pocket with a satisfied grunt.

“We also were able to figure out the spirit’s living name and dug him up,” Arianna said.

Rhys’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You did all the dirty work already.”

“Does that mean we can get some money back?” Laurence grumbled. I elbowed him in the ribs.

If Rhys heard him, he didn’t react to it. Instead, he walked over to the counter, plopped his duffle bag down, unzipped it, and began pulling out the contents. Candles, mostly. A dagger. A jar of dirt. A jug of clear liquid with a cross sunken inside—Holy Water was my guess. And what looked to be a folded, embroidered tablecloth.

Glancing between the three of us, he said, “We have only a few hours until midnight, and while I set up, there are still a couple things I need for this to work. I’ll also need every protection spell taken off this place to allow the spirit to enter during the ritual.”

“I’ll handle that,” Arianna said, already moving to the shop’s display window to start the long process of taking off the wards.

“I can help,” Laurence offered.

“I think it’s better if you help Kay,” she said with a sympathetic look. “My aunt and I put them up, so it’ll be better if I’m the one who takes them down.”

Even though it had been a kind way of saying no, Laurence frowned.

Rhys plucked a piece of paper out of his bag and handed it to Laurence. “These are the other objects I need, including a wide table to set everything up.”

I leaned over and scanned the list with him. “A permanent marker. Kosher salt.” I read aloud. “Matches and a fire extinguisher?”

“After trapping the spirit, we’ll have to burn the body at the end to banish it from both sides of the veil. To prevent it from coming back for you,” Rhys explained. “Sometimes the fire part can get a little out of hand, so that last one’s precautionary.”

“What about the four bottles of sparkling water?” Laurence asked to the last item on the list. “Wouldn’t regular water be just as good as dowsing a fire?”

Taking his hat off and placing it in the duffle bag, Rhys cleared his throat. He was balding up top and graying everywhere else. “The bottles are for me. Banishing an evil spirit can make a guy thirsty.”

Laurence rolled his eyes my way, his expression telling me he was having second thoughts about this guy. But if Arianna suggested him, and her Aunt Marla had him in her book, he had to be legitimate. Even as ridiculous as his requests were…

At least, that was what I was telling myself.

Just before midnight, Arianna had managed to get every protection spell and extra magical ward off the store and Laurence and I had found all of the items on Rhys’s list. Well, except the sparkling water. He’d have to deal with a half-carton of orange juice that Arianna had left in the minifridge.

Using one of the shop’s display tables, Rhys had laid out all the objects he needed on it. The candles were lit. A symbol had been drawn with permanent marker on his embroidered tablecloth, and a bowl full of Marc Anders’s remains, salt, and the grave dirt sat in the center of it. With all the magic that had kept the spirit away now gone, we had only minutes before it found me again and attacked.

My biggest worry was Zach. I didn’t want him near this chaos and danger. What I really wanted was for Laurence to go back to the apartment with him, to keep him safe, but he refused to leave me. And Arianna—she was our best fighter and spellcaster, no offense to Laurence. We needed her here just in case things went bad.

I couldn’t go anywhere with the spirit hunting me. It’d only come if I was here.

So, since he had to stay here, we put his crib upstairs with the baby monitor on standby. My hope was that he slept through the entire thing, completely unaware of what his parents were involved in.

When the familiar icy chill ricocheted through me, every one of my muscles tensed. My gaze snapped toward Rhys, who was turning my way at the same time, letting me know he felt it, too.

“It’s here,” he breathed, his whited-out eyes glowing eerily.

Laurence took my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Ready?” he asked.

No.

“As ready as I’ll ever be for something like this,” I replied instead, my wavering voice revealing my fear.

Arianna was scanning the store, hands outstretched and at the ready.

Rhys stepped up to the table and picked up the jug of Holy Water. “Remember, it’ll not like what we’re doing, so expect a fight. But whatever happens, do not let it touch you. It can try and hold on to your soul to prevent being pulled into its body and banished.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

I watched as he poured the Holy Water into the bowl and dunked his hands into the soggy mixture. Tilting his chin up to the ceiling, he closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath.

Silence spilled over the room as we waited. The only noises were the soft crackle of the baby monitor on Laurence’s hip and my own frantic heartbeat against my eardrums.

Then a breeze stirred my curls, caressing the side of my cheek, and I spun to see wind passing over everyone, ruffling their clothes, and disturbing some of the jewelry for sale on the shelves. As the wind built, swirling around the room like the making of a tornado, I dropped to my knees, covering my head, and clutched the cross around my neck. Laurence came with me, his unslung arm wrapping around my shoulders.

He may have been trying to say something comforting to me, but with the wind now whipping past us, the roar made it almost to impossible to hear. Merchandise flew off their displays. Books shot open, their pages flapping violently. The flames from the candles erupted upward, sparking and hissing and throwing more red light about the room.

“Hold steady!” Rhys shouted against the turbulence.

Memories of my failed channeling attempt flashed across my mind—the candles, the storm-like winds, the booming noises—and the same panic I’d felt then reared up again.

That’s when I saw it. The black silky form gliding across the floor toward Arianna’s turned back.

A strangled cry escaped my throat.

She whipped around, seeing the thing immediately, and threw a blast of icicles at it. It flinched back, scooting up the wall and above a shelf. She continued to shoot ice, following it as it hopped along the displays. Glass jars full of small animal skulls and who knew what else crashed onto the floor. Loose papers flew.

When it came to our side of the room, Laurence muttered a spell the same time it threw its tendrils out for me. I shielded my face into his chest, expecting the worst, but when nothing happened, I peeked out to see the blackness stopped by an invisible wall again.

“I got you,” he said close to my ear.

As if the spirit was annoyed, it vibrated and darted across the ceiling. Arianna resumed shooting spells at it, chasing it around the room.

When I looked at Rhys again, I was shocked at what was now happening on the table. From the bowl, the muddy combination of bone fragments, dirt, salt, and Holy Water was moving, rising, and stretching. Taking the form of a human body. With every second that went by, the more distinct the features became.

It was horrifying.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought back to the figure I’d seen forming on my grandmother’s table during my channeling. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get rid of that image. And something told me this one would haunt my nightmares right along with it.

When was this going to be over?

The blustering wind knocked against me, strong enough to teeter me over. When I opened my eyes again, the poltergeist was drawing closer to Rhys, and Arianna was struggling to keep her aim steady with the chaos raging around us.

One black tentacle lashed out, piercing Rhys in the side with enough speed and strength, it went clear through to the other side. His eyes widened in shock and pain, and the moment it withdrew, he gasped before collapsing on the ground.

At the same time, Marc’s body that he’d been reconstructing folded into itself and crumbled, the magic holding it together suddenly gone.

Chapter 11

Forgetting about the danger around us, I crawled over to Rhys as fast as I could. Laurence’s shouts echoed behind me, but I ignored him and looked Rhys over. Tugging his coat aside, I could see the blood right away. It had stained his sweater and was growing in size by the second.

I had to stop the bleeding or he was going to die.

Rhys grunted, his hands shaking as they pressed against his wound.

“You’re going to be okay,” I told him. I hoped what I was telling him was a lie.

He only stared at me, brows pinched as he tried to combat the pain.

Laurence and Arianna started hurling ice spells at the spirit in unison, working together to keep it away from me and Rhys. Not knowing what else to do, I placed my palms over his and glanced around for anything that could help. I found nothing. Only debris from the fight and winds.

Then I remembered my grandmother’s rosary. If there was ever a good time to call the guardian angel, this seemed like it was it.

Clutching the cross with bloody fingers, I said, “I’m praying to you, Elijah, Guardian. We really need you down here right now. P-Please, come help us.” Not sure if what I had said was enough, I added, “Amen,” and hoped my sad-excuse for a prayer would work.

Peering down at Rhys’s pained expression, I wished I hadn’t had to call him for this. Why hadn’t I just left those college kids alone and minded my business? Then, Rhys wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

No, but one of the kids might have. Or all of them.

But still…

It was just before Christmas, too. He’d said he had a wife back home, who was waiting on him to see family for the holiday. And a grandson named Paulie. I couldn’t let him die. I had to do something. But what?

“You have to finish the ritual,” Rhys’s strangled words were hard to hear over the commotion around us. “You have to finish it before it’s too late. It won’t stop. It’ll kill us all.”

I leaned in closer. “What do you mean?” I shook my head frantically. “I can’t—I’m not—I’m just a Medium. I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Actually, I wanted to avoid it at all costs.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and I glanced at the door, hoping that at any minute, Elijah would come burst through to save us all.

Of course, he didn’t.

I must have said the prayer wrong.

I was about to reach up and try again, but Rhys’s bloody hands clamped around mine and held them tight. “Listen to me. You have to finish it. And you can. You may think you’re just a Medium, but you’re stronger than that. You’re like me.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “No, I’m not. I’m really not—”

“I noticed it the moment I saw you,” he whispered, pain contorting his features. “It’s your aura. It gives it away.”

I paused. My aura?

I remember the strange glowing colors I’d seen after the spirit had grabbed me. Could they be auras? The energy every person or thing radiates? And mine… I had seen white wisps along my skin. Was that what he was talking about?

“You’ve seen it, too. Haven’t you?” he said. “You have to stop blocking it. It’s who you are.”

I didn’t know what to say. What he was proposing—it sounded ridiculous. Me, a necromancer? I could barely handle my Medium gifts. Raising the dead? No thank you. That wasn’t for me.

Blasts of icy air kept gusting overhead as Arianna and Laurence continued to throw spells the poltergeist’s way. When a black arm lashed out again, they jumped out of the way, and it collided with a stand of herbal teas, knocking them all off the table.

My heart skipped. That was way too close.

“You have to finish this,” Rhys said, his voice firmer. “My power won’t be able to manifest with me so weak.”

“I…”

“I’ll help you through it.” He tugged my hand, urging me to stand. “Go!”

Leaping to my feet, I moved closer to the table with the bowl and other various ingredients Rhys had set up for the ritual. Looking over them all, my gut clenched with uncertainty. I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to do here.

“You need to tap into your magic. It’s who you are. Don’t fight it. Let it go,” he instructed. “Relax yourself to open up to it.”

With an evil spirit loose in the shop and my boyfriend and friend battling for our lives, how was I supposed to just relax myself? It was impossible.

“Do it!”

I forced myself to close my eyes. Drawing in a few shaky breaths through my nose and out my mouth, I thought back to the night before, when my vision had changed and the glowing colors had appeared. I had just been touched by the spirit, some of my life’s energy drained… Maybe in my exhaustion and weakness, I’d been able to let my walls down so my power could expand? At least a little.

Was that why the poltergeist had let me go then? Because it had sensed the necromancer part of me coming to the surface? In that moment, I’d sworn I’d felt the bones trembling, too.

And the similarities between the start of the ritual and my first attempt at channeling were undeniable. Had my grandmother recognized the signs back then and known what I was? Had that been why she’d stopped me so fast and never pushed me to channel again?

Could Rhys be right?

“Katherine…”

My head snapped up at the familiar female’s voice. As my gaze fell upon the short, plump woman with a floral spring dress, apron, and graying hair, I almost fell over.

“Gr…Grandma?” My voice broke at the sight of her in spirit form. After all this time of not being able to see her, there she was. Right there on the other side of the table, staring at me. I couldn’t believe it. She looked exactly as I remembered her, down to the rosebud shaped mouth and lines around her eyes and mouth. Around her ghostly form, a pale-yellow light pulsed.

Her aura.

I glanced down at Rhys, who was staring at me intently. His glow ebbed duller by the second, telling me his time was running short. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see Laurence’s surrounding aura was a dark blue, while Arianna’s was fiery pink in color.

Oh my God…

It was true.

I looked back at my grandmother. There was so much I wanted to say to her. So many questions I had. Years’ worth. But my words stayed frozen in my throat.

“I know, my dear.” Her smile was sad but one of relief all the same. “I know you’re scared. But you need to listen to me. There isn’t much time.”

I nodded meekly.

“This is who you are. Who you’ve always been,” she said, her tone calm despite the chaos still raging around us. “You’re stronger than your mother. And me. You always have been. You just have to allow yourself to be you.”

“Put your hands in the bowl!” Rhys shouted. “Into the mixture!”

I hesitated.

Grandmother Abigail pointed to the mud-like stuff in the large vessel. “Listen to him, dear. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Doing as Rhys said, I sank my fingers into the muck. Instantly, something took hold of me. Sparking energy traveled up my hands and along my arms. Coldness radiated over my skin, and my entire body trembled. Wind began to surge and whip around the room again as the power rose.

“No matter what, don’t take them out!” Rhys commanded against the growing noise.

Gradually, the mixture in the bowl shifted, building on top of one another and rising out, forming two legs.

“That’s it, Katherine. Steady now.” My grandmother’s voice kept me stationary, even though I was shaking so much, my teeth were chattering. The body gained more form and mass before me. A torso, a chest, two arms… I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing—what I was doing—but it was happening.

Glass shattered, and I gasped, seeing a dark tendril flash nearby and knock over another store display—this time with blown glass ornaments for sale. Immediately, a frigid air blast rushed past me, making the spirit recoil.

“Don’t worry! We got your back,” Arianna shouted from somewhere behind me.

When I peered back up at the body, the head was in place and more distinct features were forming. I could make out eyes now and a mouth. Stringy long hair and a dimpled chin.

“Repeat after me!” Rhys said. “Ol-ha—petrice—viltire—alro—sah.”

I did, the unknown language making my lips tingle the moment they left them.

“Again!”

“Ol-ha—petrice—viltire—alro—sah.” I peeked up at the hovering spirit and noticed its inky color was draining away. In front of me, the naked body began to become more lifelike. The skin was pale, his hair, dark, and his eyes were a pale shade of green. They stared out blankly, still unable to see.

Without Rhys’s prompting, I repeated the odd phrase again, then watched as the spirit faded more and more.

“Keep going, dear. You got it,” Grandmother Abigail encouraged.

I said the foreign words again and again until nothing was left of the poltergeist. It had vanished completely. The body, though, looked as real as a freshly dead corpse—sickly pastel in skin tone and unmoving—except for the eyes, which had latched onto me and were glaring with pure hatred.

Marc Anders, Westwood’s serial killer, in the flesh again.

“You’ve forced it back into its body,” Rhys explained, pain edging his tone. The wind died down around us. “Quick, before he can move, take the candles and—”

Pain smacked into the side of my face and I was flying across the room. My back hit another table, and I fell, everything aching. It took me a second to realize I’d been slapped, and when my gaze shot up, I found the body of Marc Anders stepping out of the bowl, his bare feet still covered in muck. Its green eyes flickered to every face in the room as he leaped off the table and growled menacingly.

That’s when a baby’s wails crackled through the monitor on Laurence’s hip, and all my breath froze in my chest.

Zach.

The moving corpse’s head snapped toward the backroom, and a smirk stretched across its thin lips.

My heart plummeted. It was going to go after Zach.

Laurence was off and running, pushing through the beaded curtain and dashing up the stairs within seconds.

The corpse went after him, moving too fast for a partially living thing.

A blast of ice blew past me, aimed for it, but instead of making an impact, the magic bounced off. Ineffective.

Arianna’s voice rose with another spell—this time a fireball—but like before, it couldn’t touch the creature.

“Magic won’t work now!” Rhys yelled. “It’s not fully part of this plane!”

My grandmother stood there, horror on her face. For the first time in my life, she couldn’t offer me any advice, and that scared her.

The corpse hurried to the counter, about to push past the curtain.

Fury ignited within me, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. A raging tornado of fire trapped in a skin casing.

Not my baby, you bastard.

My hand shot out; my silent command for it to stop boomed in my own ears but never left my mouth. To my surprise, the corpse locked in place, with one foot still raised to take another step.

Had I done that?

My body vibrated as power pushed through me, but I kept my focus on Marc Anders, knowing that if I looked away for even a second, the connection would be severed.

“You did it!” Rhys’s laughter was a strange sound amongst the danger. “Hold it there! Don’t let it go!”

Sweat beaded on my forehead.

“The candles,” he barked to Arianna and pointed to the still-lit candles on the ritual table. “It needs to be cleansed with fire. It’s the only way to banish it completely.”

Arianna rushed forward, but suddenly, a bolt of white light exploded, drowning the room in brightness. Disoriented, I shielded my eyes and stumbled back. When the light diminished, Elijah was standing there, bare chest and all, taking in the scene. His aura’s glow was dazzling, a brilliant halo of gold.

My prayer had worked. He came.

My gaze flew back to the body of Marc Anders, who had been freed from my hold, and was shoving past the curtain toward the stairs.

Reading the signs quickly, Elijah hurdled over the counter. At the same time, a gold spear materialized in his grasp, and he thrust the blade through the corpse’s back and chest. Right where its heart should be.

It reeled, growling fiercely, but Elijah flung the thing into the center of the store with little effort at all. It landed on its back, clawing at the floor like an animal caught in a trap.

Moving with lightning speed, he jumped into the air, spear raised, and plunged it into its middle, pinning it to the ground. No blood oozed, but why would it? The thing wasn’t alive. Instead, it snapped and snarled Elijah’s way. He held the staff firm, keeping it stuck in place.

“Fire!” Elijah bellowed, jutting his chin toward the burning candles. “It needs to be cleansed with fire!”

Arianna and I hurried to the ritual table and grabbed two white candles. Rushing over to Elijah, we quickly crouched low and touched the flames to Marc Anders’s waxy skin. As if it were made of newspaper, the body ignited in a burst of flame.

When it extinguished, all that was left was a black smudge in the shape of a body on the wooded floor and Elijah’s golden spear embedded in the middle.

He yanked it out and brought it back to his side, where it disappeared into thin air. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, his worried gaze scanning me over. Then Arianna.

The young witch gaped at him, never seeing a gorgeous, half-naked angel before. My reaction had been similar the first time Jade had brought him to my home. He was quite a sight to behold.

Turning toward Rhys, who was still laying wounded and bleeding on the floor, concern nudged me. The soft white of his aura was dimming by the second.

“Help him,” I said to Elijah. “Please.”

He needed to see his family and that grandson of his for Christmas. He had to.

Elijah nodded once, understanding, and went over to him. He scooped him into his arms like he was a child, and strode toward the shop’s front door. The moment he stepped outside, there was another flare of white light, and they were both gone.

The sound of Zach’s playful coos had me spinning around to see him and Laurence standing there. Completely safe. I let out a held breath in relief and hurried over to them. I took Zach from Laurence and kissed him all over his face, squeezing him close. Tonight had been a whirlwind. So much could have gone wrong. I could have lost them both.

Just thinking about it made my throat tight. I loved them both so much. What would I have done…?

As Laurence’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, tears sprung to my eyes. I pushed those heart-wrenching thoughts away and focused more on having them here with me now. Everything had worked out. We were okay.

Peeking over at Arianna, I saw her standing there shyly, unsure what to do. I held out my arm, gesturing for her to join us in our family hug. Smiling, she sprinted over, and I brought her in close.

Zach giggled, happy to have her in our little family.

I was, too.

Grandmother Abigail’s spirit held her hand over her heart and smiled our way. Her silent way was telling me she was proud of everything I’d accomplished and would always be watching over me. Now that I had fully accepted the power I had been given and wasn’t blocking myself anymore, something told me I’d be able to see her more often. This wasn’t goodbye.

“I love you, too,” I mouthed to her. Then, she turned around and walked through the shop’s closed door, disappearing.

In that moment, as I clutched them all close, I realized I couldn’t have asked for anything more than this—the ones I loved right here, nearby and out of danger. No other Christmas present could compare.

Chapter 12

Christmas morning.

I’d had so many expectations for this day that when it finally came, my feelings toward it had shifted. Things like presents, cookies and milk, and holiday pajamas just didn’t seem to matter anymore. After everything we had gone through at Divine Magic with the poltergeist, I was happy to have the two men in my life with me, snuggling by the tree, watching the Hallmark channel, and drinking hot chocolate. Out the window, I could see flurries of snow beginning to fall from the sky, promising a white Christmas after all.

Since I hadn’t had time to buy Zach any gifts, he played with the roll of wrapping paper and sparkly ribbon on the floor, laughing at the crinkly sound they both made. The entire apartment smelled like roasted chicken, which was warming in the oven with some other side dishes I’d prepared for our late lunch get-together with friends. I had invited Arianna, of course, and had even extended the invitation to Sean and Elijah. Although I was pretty sure neither of them was going to make it. But I had made enough food, just in case.

Somehow—I’m not quite sure how exactly—I was able to get all my catering orders done for my evening deliveries today. And Laurence…he had taken his level one test with only one working hand and passed. With flying colors, he made sure to add, when he and Arianna had returned from the Council. Apparently, they had been impressed with his spellcasting while at a disadvantage, and I’m pretty sure his grin never left his face for a full twenty-four hours after. He even started talking to Arianna about starting his level two training right away, but after a stern talking-to from me, he resolved to start after the holidays.

I was proud of him. He was finally believing in himself, like I always had. And his new wave of confidence made me look at myself as well. Through this entire experience with the poltergeist, I’d discovered that I wasn’t just a Medium. I was the highest form of it—I was a necromancer. I could control the dead. My fear had blocked me from reaching my potential for so long, but now, it was undeniable.

And Rhys? We had all visited him in the hospital yesterday. He’d undergone emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and stitch him up, but he was recovering well. His family was flying in last night to spend Christmas with him in the hospital, which he didn’t seem to mind. He even gave me his number if I ever had questions about my new powers. He said that after he saw what I could do, he was happy to lend his help—free of charge this time.

After Elijah had dropped him off at the hospital, he hadn’t returned to Divine Magic, so my guess was that whatever he was doing with Jade and the Trials was important. I wished I’d had time to thank him, but I understood his reasons.

Wait until I told Jade about everything that’d happened. She was going to flip.

Beside me, Laurence shifted uneasily. Since I was leaning on him on the couch, I sat up and turned to him. “Everything okay?” I asked him. “Was it getting uncomfortable?”

“No. It’s just…I have a present for you,” he said.

My eyes widened. “A present? But we told each other no gifts for us this year.”

I had kept my side of the promise and hadn’t gotten him anything.

He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know, but I couldn’t help myself.” He wiggled so he could get his good hand into his pocket. Suddenly, something outside the window beeped loudly.

I stared at him, confused.

Again, a horn beeped, sounding like a car on the street below.

Or…a van.

“What!” Excitement spiraled through me as the realization hit. Slowly, he pulled out a set of keys and held them between us. I gaped. “You didn’t…”

He handed me the keys and nodded toward the window. “Go, look.”

I did, almost tripping over the blanket that had been wrapped around my legs. At the window, I stared down at the street in front of my store and saw a white work van parked there, its lights flashing when I pressed the lock button down again. It beeped loudly, too.

“Oh my God, Laurence! How did you—I mean, the money? Rhys!” I spun around to see him standing there, a smile on his face.

“I’d been putting some money aside with every paycheck, figured this was where it needed to go. Toward your dream,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say. It was too big of a gift. Too generous. How could I accept it?

Then, a bit wobbly, he dropped to his one knee and produced a small box from behind his back.

My heartbeat galloped instantly. Was he going to… Really?

“And this… is my dream,” he whispered. “You are my dream.”

With a flick of his fingers, he opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire engagement ring. “Will you…?”

Before he could even get the words out, I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing tight. We both teetered over, falling onto the ground together.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Laurence cried. I scrambled to my knees and helped him up, realizing he had landed on his broken wrist.

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I was a little too excited.”

He grinned. “Is that a yes then?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely.” I let him slide the ring onto my finger before I grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him hard. Behind us, Zach clapped his little hands and giggled.

The doorbell rang.

“That must be Arianna,” I said, my head still in a tizzy from the unexpected proposal. “I’ll get it.”

I hurried down the steps to open the front door, giddy with excitement. The moment I turned the handle, the door swung open, revealing a shivering and visibly cold Arianna. Behind her, the snow was now coming down in drifts, with thicker flakes, already sticking to the ground.

She jumped inside and tugged off her hood. “Did he do it yet?” Gaze dropping to my hand, she spotted the ring and squealed with delight. “He did! I can’t believe he found the balls to actually do it.”

“Wait, you knew about this?” I asked.

She snorted. “Knew? It was all he could talk about for months. Was so nervous, he almost threw up last week.”

“Hey!” Laurence’s voice boomed from the apartment. “Don’t tell her that!”

Arianna shrugged, pulled off her coat and snow boots, and put them on the designated hooks and rug near the door. Then, she bolted up the steps.

“Where’s my little Zach-attack!” she called as I closed the door and went to follow. I heard Zach’s happy giggles at her arrival and smiled, my chest warming. He really had taken to her, and honestly, so had I. She was a good person—a good friend. I would have to tell Jade thank you again for bringing us together. When she got back.

I got halfway to the apartment before another knock on the door sounded.

“I’ll get it,” I yelled up to the others before spinning around and trudging back down. When I opened the door again, I was shocked to see Sean, Wyatt’s son, standing there with a large casserole dish in hand.

“Sean! I didn’t think you were going to make it. Here, let me take that from you.” I took the dish and gestured for him to join me in the entryway. Snow clung to his shoulders and hair, but he brushed it off before stepping inside.

“Careful with that,” he said, peeling off his layers and hanging them by Arianna’s things. “Bottom’s a little hot still.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said with a smile.

“I know, but it’s really nothing much. Just some canned tuna fish, pasta, peas, and breadcrumbs. It was something my mom used to throw together for every holiday, so Pop and I continued the tradition after she died. I thought that maybe… since…”

My heart clenched for him. This was his first Christmas with both his parents gone. It was one of the reasons I had invited him—and Arianna—to this lunch get-together. No one should be alone on Christmas.

“It smells great,” I said. “I hope you weren’t expecting to have leftovers.”

That won me a smile from him.

“Thanks for including us in your family tradition.” I tilted my chin toward the apartment. “Everyone’s already upstairs. Why don’t you get settled in, and I’ll get the table set.”

He nodded and climbed up the steps two at a time. I followed behind him.

Out of curiosity, I turned on my enhanced necromancer vision and noticed Sean’s aura was a beautiful, swirling cobalt blue.

Arianna and Laurence had explained to me that once I’d taken over the ritual and tapped into my new power, my eyes had changed. Like Rhys’s, my iris became lost behind a cloudy white film. A freaky thing to witness, they’d said, but luckily, it had gone away the moment my eyesight switched back to normal. It wasn’t permanent.

Good thing, too, because I didn’t want to scare Zach or any of my customers.

After blinking and switching my vision back, I set Sean’s dish on the table and walked into the kitchen to check on the rest of the food I had warming in the oven. Nothing crazy, just some honeyed carrots, mashed potatoes, and roasted chicken. All things I had prepared the night before.

In the small living space, Sean walked over to Arianna and held out his hand. “I’m Sean,” he said with a shy smile.

She looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Oh, so you’re the one they were going to ask for help instead of me,” Arianna said. “Some farm boy?”

“Hey,” Sean shot, glancing down at his plaid shirt and jeans. “I’ve never been on a farm in my life.”

Even though she bounced Zach in her arms as she spoke, her words weren’t playful. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant to say hillbilly.”

“Arianna.” I glared at her, confused by her nastiness. “It’s Christmas. And Sean’s our guest.”

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” Sean bit back at her.

She huffed. “I just expected more from a human who claims to know all about supernaturals, is all.”

Sean was about to argue, but Laurence walked between them and took Zach from Arianna’s arms. “Quit it,” he told her and gave her a stern look—a Dad look—and my heart fluttered. It was hard to believe that he was now my fiancé, and soon I’d be spending the rest of my life with him.

Crossing her arms, Arianna plopped on the couch and turned her attention onto whatever was playing on the television.

Sean glanced my way with a puzzled look, but all I could do was shrug. I wanted to say “Kids, huh?” but figured that probably wouldn’t be the best thing to say, since he was also a twenty-something year old. Not to mention that it’d make me sound like an old lady.

Laurence offered Sean one of the beers from the cooler. He gladly accepted. When Arianna waved for one, too, he tossed one her way. She caught it with ease, twisted off the top, and eased back into the cushions. Laurence and Sean exchanged looks before striking up a conversation about Sean’s next semester in college and the classes he was taking.

Another knock on the front door sounded, one only I seemed to hear. Not wanting to disturb them, I crept back down the stairs.

I opened the door.

Standing there on my stoop was the breathtakingly handsome guardian angel again. Elijah.

“Oh!” I gasped, surprised to find him at my door. But it was Christmas, after all, and we were spending it with friends. I wasn’t going to send him away. “It’s cold out there. Why don’t you come in. We were just about to—”

Above, footsteps sounded.

“He’s back…” Arianna called down the stairs to us. “The shirtless hunk with the spear.”

“You know this guy?” Sean asked her, sounding to be at the top of the steps, too.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t peel my gaze off Elijah. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my bones.

“Of course I do,” Arianna and Sean’s conversation went on without us. “Do you?”

“He appeared in the middle of my house out of nowhere and then walked off with Jade. Wouldn’t even let her tell us what was going on.”

“If you’re here for food, come up because it’s getting cold!” Laurence’s shouts followed. He must have turned on the stereo because Christmas music suddenly played in the background.

Elijah ignored them all, only stared at me, his weighted gaze full of worry.

“Elijah,” I started, my throat tight. “Why are you here?” Because suddenly I was doubting it was to try Sean’s mother’s tuna casserole or watch holiday movies.

“It’s Jade,” he said, his words clipped with urgency. “She’s missing.”

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No one can cheat death. Not even a reaper... But she'll sure as hell try.

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Harper A. Brooks lives in a small town on the New Jersey shore. Even though classic authors have always filled her bookshelves, she finds her writing muse drawn to the dark, magical, and romantic. But when she isn't creating entire worlds with sexy shifters or legendary love stories, you can find her either with a good cup of coffee in hand or at home snuggling with her furry, four-legged son, Sammy.

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Reaper Reborn Series

Death Wish

Death Trap

Death Match

Death Deals

Death Sentence

Till Death

Christmas Spirits: A Holiday Novella

Halfling for Hire: A Short Story Collection

Pinelands Pack

Howl

Bite

Devour

Shifter Origins

The Hunt

The Curse

His Haven: A Victorian Vampire Romance

Eternally Yours: A Vampire Romance

Soul Kiss

Kat Parrish

Chapter 1

Ripley had warned me that Parker was going to be at her party but I came anyway. I’d even bought a new dress for the occasion—expensive psychological armor for what I was afraid was going to be an arduous emotional battle. And even though I normally didn’t wear much makeup, I’d gone full Kabuki for tonight’s event, right down to the false eyelashes and the contouring.

I knew it was pathetic, but my shaky self-esteem needed shoring up. I wanted to look hot. I wanted him to see what he was missing and I wanted to show him I was doing just fine without him.

I’d spent hours fussing with my hair.

Wear it up? Wear it down? Straighten it? Curl it?

Shave it all off?

I’d finally decided to just let it air dry to bring out the natural waves I usually kept under tight restraint. I wore my hair in a French braid at work and pulled it back in a ponytail the rest of the time. At night I piled it in a messy bun just so I wouldn’t wake up with a mouthful of hair.

Wearing my hair down just wasn’t my usual style.

But I’d worn my hair down for Parker.

He’d liked running his fingers through it while he talked dirty to me. That had always felt good—like his fingertips were generating little electrical sparks that were hotwired straight into my crotch.

But Parker also liked to pull my hair. Hard.

And not always during sex when the endorphins were flowing. Sometimes he’d just grab a handful in his fist and pull me to him in a show of possessive dominance that had an ugly tinge of sadism to it.

I’d told him I didn’t like it when he did that, but he’d just laughed. “Sure you do,” he said and pulled harder, sometimes so hard I thought he was going to yank my hair out by the bloody roots.

That should have been my cue to dump him, but instead I made excuses for him. It’s just sex play, I told myself. Don’t be such a prude. Don’t be such a baby.

Deep down inside, though, I knew that Parker liked the hurting more than the sex and I didn’t like knowing that I knew that and still stayed.

Thinking about the months it took me to finally break away made me rethink the wisdom of coming to Ripley’s party. Of seeing Parker again. My relationship for him was just as addictive as my brother’s need for pain killers…and just as destructive.

The closer I got to Ripley’s condo, the more I just wanted to turn around, drive back to my apartment, microwave some hot chocolate, and download some holiday movies.

It was tempting, but I hadn’t missed one of Ripley’s Christmas parties since our freshman year in high school and I wasn’t going to let the thought of running into my ex scare me away from this one.

Ripley’s one of my oldest friends and her parties are epic. But I couldn’t help but wonder why she had invited Parker after all I’d told her about the way he’d treated me.

She’d once dated Parker’s brother, but that relationship had long since faded into the rearview and Jared wasn’t still in the guest rotation. So I had to wonder why Parker was still around. Maybe sisterhood isn’t as powerful as I liked to think.

I didn’t like thinking about that.

I shouldered my way past a little knot of smokers in Ripley’s tiny courtyard and pushed open the door to her condo. I loved her place. She’d bought it with the money from a recurring role on Grimm, and rented out the spare bedroom to help pay the mortgage now that the show was off the air.

I’d never met her current roommate—they only seemed to last for a couple of months—and lately Ripley had been making overtures to me, suggesting I move in with her, pointing out that her spare bedroom was bigger than my entire studio.

I loved Ripley but the idea of sharing space with her was little intimidating. For one thing she was a clean freak and I was…not. It’s not that I was dirty, but my place always seemed to have chairs piled with clean clothes and books and mail I hadn’t dealt with. I didn’t alphabetize my jars of spices or arrange the boxes of pasta in my tiny kitchen according to height and the color of the packaging.

Ripley’s condo always looked like it had been “curated” for maximum Instagram impact, but in a good way. She had a minimalist style that was offset by her bold use of color and she had a real knack for locating vintage finds that would have looked ratty in anyone else’s living room but looked fabulously eclectic in hers. I coveted the pair of Egyptian Revival lamps she’d found on eBay and displayed on either side of a faux Empire-style chaise that was upholstered in a deep burgundy velvet. Instead of the posters most of her friends had on their walls, she had real art. Most of the pieces were original, things she’d bought at art walks and on Etsy, and though nothing had cost more than $25, the overall effect was stunning.

Everything about her home, like everything about Ripley, made a bold statement and spoke of self-confident style. I wasn’t self-confident. I wasn’t stylish. I wasn’t roommate material.

I think Ripley saw me as something of a project, the sort of friend you sometimes adopt because you feel sorry for them and want to play Pygmalion.

Ripley was all about the life hacks and the little tricks but so far the most useful things she’d taught me were how to shine a pair of shoes with a glob of peanut butter and how to give a blow job. It had been a while since I’d used either skill.

The music was bumping as I walked in, cranked up so loud it vibrated in my bones. The energy was infectious. People were shoulder dancing and moving in place because there wasn’t enough space to actually do more than that. There were so many people crammed into the living room that I had to edge sideways through the crowd. I didn’t see Ripley anywhere, but I saw Parker.

Of course I saw Parker.

He was standing by Ripley’s faux fireplace, red cup in hand, gazing down at someone I couldn’t see until the crowd shifted and I got a glimpse of a petite woman gazing up at him adoringly.

I recognized the expression. I’d worn it often enough myself.

I didn’t know her. She looked young, like high school young, like jailbait young, but maybe it was just the dim light.

She was a pale-skinned strawberry blonde, her hair a glorious rose gold that tumbled across her milky-white bare shoulders. The skin-tight black halter number she was wearing wasn’t very practical for the Pacific Northwest in December, but I couldn’t talk. My new dress was a barely- there slip of red silk chiffon with a wrap about as substantial as a cloud. It wouldn’t have kept me warm in a sauna.

I could see the girl’s cupid’s bow mouth moving as she said something to Parker.

Parker had to bend toward her as she spoke because she was so tiny. Even in her heels she barely reached Parker’s shoulder. He probably liked that. He and I had stood eye to eye when I was in heels. Eye to eye and yet, we’d never been equals.

At least not by his measure.

It took me a while to figure that out because at first all I saw was what he wanted me to see. He was smart and funny and charming and insanely good-looking. I liked that he had a focus, that he seemed to have his life figured out. While the rest of us were still sending out resumes in search of a halfway decent starter job, he’d had internships and fellowships, and clerkships, and the luxury of sifting through a number of employment options.

He’d been a rising star at a law firm when I met him at a farmer’s market one rainy Sunday. We’d both reached for the last loaf of peppercorn cheese bread from a local bakery and he’d gallantly relinquished his claim, then followed me around the rest of the afternoon as I shopped for tomatoes and corn and honey.

We’d eaten a food cart lunch while sharing our picks for best Indian food and tiramisu in the city. He couldn’t believe I didn’t like sushi; I was surprised he didn’t care for coffee.

When he bought me a bunch of sunflowers—“to brighten your day as much as you’ve brightened mine” he said—I’d thought it was a smooth move. When he asked for my number, I gave it to him, never expecting him to follow up.

“Seriously,” I’d told Ripley, “people just don’t meet people like that except in the movies.”

“Does he have a brother?” she’d asked me, which is how she met Jared. They didn’t last long as long as Parker and I did and she’d soon moved on to Mikkel, an intense musician who paid the bills working as an IT guy but poured his heart into playing experimental compositions on instruments of his own design.

Parker hadn’t liked Mikkel very much, his animosity rooted in his basic contempt for humankind in general and not due to any loyalty to his older brother. He was, at heart, a misanthrope and only pretended to care about Ripley and her love life because she was my friend. He didn’t give a shit about Jared and referred to his brother as “the loser in the family,” because he’d turned down a job with the Mayor’s office to take a position at a non-profit working to end childhood poverty.

The first time I personally felt the weight of Parker’s disdain had been the night we first made love. I’d put him off for weeks, a bit wary that our “meet cute” and immediate connection was not enough to sustain a real relationship. But he’d launched a charm offensive that had finally won me over.

Afterwards, he told me casually that he thought women who had tattoos were slutty and that if I wanted to be with him, I’d have to remove the tattoo on my left hip.

I bristled at the suggestion.

“No one can see it,” I said.

“I can see it,” he said, “and I don’t like it. It brands you as white trash.”

“No,” I’d said and gotten out of bed to dress, almost weeping with frustration when I couldn’t find my bra.

“Don’t be like that Hilde,” he’d said. “I just know how people talk about Hugh. I’d hate to have them talk like that about you.”

Parker had sounded so sincere that I’d allowed him to coax me back into bed but the name hung in the air between us like the stench of a particularly nasty fart.

Hugh. My poor troubled twin brother.

I’d gotten the undercover tattoo on our 18th birthday at Hugh’s insistence. He had a matching one on his forearm where it had eventually joined a whole sleeve of designs, including an ugly, vaguely bird-like blotch he said was a crow. I always thought it looked like it had been scrawled on his arm with a cheap ballpoint pen but never said so. I understood that what he was doing with the skin art. He’d felt like an outsider his whole life and he’d embraced the role when we were just kids, pushing people away with his temper and his poor hygiene and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad choices.

The tattoos were a way of telling people who he was, a Rosetta stone to decode his soul. All of them had meaning and there was a raw poetry to the story they told. Many of them were based on images he said had come to him in dreams and he was convinced they were messages from our birth mother, a woman our parents claimed to have never met and of whom we could find no trace.

I didn’t want a tattoo but the design he’d sketched out in the dream notebook his shrink made him keep was strangely compelling—interlocking curves and wavy lines that looked like some ancient rune from a lost underwater civilization. Hugh said the design would protect us and that the symbol was called “Ascaris,” but he didn’t have any idea how he knew that or if it even had a meaning.

Hugh almost never asked me for anything, and it seemed like such a silly request that I agreed to it. We had the tattoos done by an a gender-fluid inkmaster who had hit on both of us. It wasn’t the first time we’d been invited to take part in a ménage but we declined. Our relationship was already complicated enough without adding incest to the mix.

Our father was horrified when he found out what we’d done but our mother told us she thought it was a beautiful way to celebrate our transition into adulthood.

She had died not long after that and our father, who taught medieval literature at Portland State University, had turned into an old man overnight.

She had been the love of his life and without her, he seemed to be stumbling his way through perpetual night without so much as a glow-stick to light his way.

He took a leave of absence from the teaching job, supposedly to write a book on gender roles in The Mabinogion, but after a year he’d given up all pretense of working and just stayed in his study and played Assassin’s Creed, his melancholia wrapped around him like a comfortable sweater.

Hugh dealt with his grief by self-medicating, landing in rehab after a second DUI. He’d been clean for a while, but he’d relapsed twice that I knew of, and had been dropping in and out of my life ever since.

We still had that spooky extrasensory bond that a lot of twins have, but that and the tattoo on my hip were the strongest connections I still had to my brother and I wasn’t going to risk losing that because the guy I was sleeping with was a snob.

Parker et the matter drop that first night, but over the time we’d dated, I’d heard a lot of complaints about that tattoo. And about Hugh. Some people blow up under that kind of pressure. I imploded, stuffing down my anger until it rebounded on me as depression.

Good times.

I was jostled out of my unhappy thoughts by the arrival of a trio of guys who worked with Ripley at Zulily. They were actors too and always in performance mode. Being around them could be exhausting if you weren’t in the mood but the way I was feeling, they were just what I needed.

“Hey Hilde,” one of them said and went in for the full-body cheek kiss.

“Hey,” I said, giving him a hug instead. “Merry Christmas Deshawn.”

He smiled and looked over my shoulder, already scoping out the room for an easier target. As he and the other guys moved on, I drifted deeper into the party, still keeping my eye on Parker and his date.

I could see by the proprietary way she kept touching him that she thought they were a couple.

Maybe they were, though Parker’s usual style was to break up before holidays so he wouldn’t be obligated to give his significant other a present. Not that he wasn’t generous; he just didn’t like the implied commitment that came with offering a woman a Valentine’s Day bauble or a shiny trinket at Christmas.

As I watched them, the redheaded girl threw back her head and laughed at something Parker had said. She was wearing a pair of statement earrings that made her slender neck look long and graceful as they swayed back and forth.

Parker smiled at her, that lazy smirk-smile I’d always courted, wanting his approval and appreciation.

Hugh wasn’t the only twin who was looking for love in all the wrong places.

Our parents had loved us dearly but there was still—always—that question for us: Why had our mother given us up?

Hugh’s misbehavior had always been a plea for reassurance, designed to make our adoptive parents prove how much they loved us, to prove that they would never give us away, no matter how bad we were.

The more he acted out, the more I became the “perfect daughter,” the people pleaser. I was still trying to work through that. I hated conflict and would go to great lengths to avoid it.

Which explained a lot about why I had been with Parker.

He liked confrontation and I could turn him loose like a mad dog when there was a problem I needed handled, whether it was a nasty neighbor or a car mechanic who wanted to charge me for a new transmission when all I needed was an oil change.

With Parker around, I didn’t have to worry about things like that.

I just had to worry about him.

Hugh had been the first to warn me that my relationship with Hugh was going septic. Unfortunately, my brother had dropped out of sight before I could give him the news that the relationship he’d mockingly called “Hildepark” was no longer.

I was far more upset about his disappearance than I was about Parker’s absence from my life.

Friends reported Hugh sightings to me—they’d seen him browsing at Title Wave Bookstore or grabbing lunch at Mr. Chen’s Chinese Kitchen—but I hadn’t seen him since the really tense Thanksgiving dinner we’d had with our father almost a month earlier.

The last time I’d heard from him, he’d said he was staying with a friend and that he was okay and just needed some time. Trust me, he’d said.

I’d come to hate those two words. Parker used to say them all the time, usually right before he did something untrustworthy.

Parker.

Once again my gaze drifted towards him.

He looked good, his dark hair a little shaggy and curling over the collar of his pale blue Brioni button-down dress shirt.

I’d bought him that shirt, spending nearly half a month’s salary on it.

“Want me to kill him?” an amused voice yelled in my ear. “Just say the word.”

I turned to see Leo Forney, one of my favorite people, and an avid Parker-hater from way back.

“I can make it quick and painless or I can make him suffer. Your choice,” Leo said.

I smiled and threw my arms around his neck.

I’d met Leo in high school when he’d been adorkable—unsure about his sexuality, defensive about his intelligence, and completely committed to geek culture before it was totally cool. Since then he’d grown into his intelligence, embraced his sexual identity, and parlayed his love for all things geek into creating a fund that provided money for tech startups.

He’d also met Henry, who was probably even smarter than he was and despite being terminally hip, just as lovable.

““Hi Henry,” I said to Leo’s boyfriend, hugging him too.

Henry smiled. “Can I get you something from the bar?” he shouted.

A drink sounded fantastic. “Please,” I said. “Maybe some white wine?”

“Lightweight,” he said, but he was only kidding. Henry doesn’t drink.

As Henry turned away, Leo looked me over with a mock scowl. “What are you doing here Hilde?”

I pretended not to know what he was asking.

“Having a good time,” I said. “Fa la la la la and all that.”

“Right,” he said. “Did you know the prince of darkness was going to be here?”

“Yes,” I admitted sheepishly.

“And you came anyway?” Leo made a frownie face. “What did you think was going to happen when he saw you? He’d beg your forgiveness and promise this time he’d treat you with respect? Tell you that he loves you with all of his heart and soul?”

“It sounds so bad when you say it that way,” I said, but even as I tried for a light tone, I could feel tears threatening.

He sighed. “You deserve better.”

“I know,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure you do,” he said. “It’s like you’re poking a bruise to see if it still hurts.”

It’s complicated.

I didn’t want to get back with Parker. Coming here was more to convince myself I could be in the same space with him and not fall apart.

I had never told anyone the real reason Parker and I had broken up. I’d told people that I didn’t think Parker respected me. I’d admitted that he sometimes made me feel bad on purpose. I’d even confessed that he was a control freak and that his behavior was starting to scare me a little. Maybe they read between the lines. Maybe they came to their own conclusions.

What I hadn’t told anyone was that on his birthday Parker had gotten really drunk and tried to force me to have sex when I didn’t want to.

I had planned to spend his birthday night with him but he was a bad drunk and the liquor had made him mean.

He was angry with his father about something—something to do with a trust fund payment or some stock shares or something—and instead of standing up to his father, he had taken out his anger on me.

When he started getting rough, I told him to stop and he didn’t.

I could have given in—it wasn’t like I was a virgin—but he wanted to take what was mine to give and that was not okay. And for once, I’d stood up to him.

He had been infuriated by my defiance and I had been unnerved by his completely unhinged loss of control. Unnerved, and certain he was about to kill me when he tied me to his bed to keep me from leaving.

Fortunately, he’d been too drunk to do more than tie a couple of sloppy square knots, and the minute he went to the bathroom, I’d wriggled out of the bindings and made a run for it.

In the days after, he had bombarded me with apologetic texts but I’d held firm and eventually, he stopped trying to get in touch with me.

I counted myself lucky to have escaped with my self-respect, even if I’d had to leave a pair of almost-new shoes behind because I didn’t want to take the time to find them. The Uber driver I’d summoned had been a woman. She’d taken one look at my bare feet and said, “You want me to call the cops?”

I’d declined the offer. I’d escaped. I was okay.

But I hadn’t really escaped. Not completely.

I’d told myself I was inoculated against his charm but here I was, staring holes into the back of a pretty redheaded girl I’d never met, just because she was the one in his arms and I wasn’t.

“It’s fine,” I said to Leo when I realized I had drifted off, “I’m fine.”

“How’s Hugh?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” I said. “He says he’s okay. But he’s not coming home for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry,” Leo said and I knew he meant it. Leo had always liked Hugh and he was one of the few people that Hugh actually liked back.

Leo was about to say something else when Henry returned with our beverages, Diet Coke for him, overpriced imported beer for Leo and wine for me.

I took a big gulp out of the red cup Henry handed me and grimaced.

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you can tell me what kind of wine that is,” Leo said. “Chablis or Chardonnay?”

Leo knew I was no wine connoisseur and he sometimes teased me about my lack of sophistication, freely admitting his new-found obsession with artisanal sake and high-end bourbon, tastes he’d acquired running around with the tech-bros from Silicon Forest, was totally annoying.

Usually I enjoyed his teasing, but tonight it felt like he was mocking me. To my horror the tears that had threatened earlier welled up and spilled over. I handed the red cup back to Henry so fast some of the wine sloshed onto his hand. “Sorry,” I said but I was already turning away.

“Hilde, I was just kidding,” Leo said, sounding distressed.

“I know,” I said without looking at him. “I have to go.”

“Hilde—”

“I’ll call you later,” I promised. And with that, I turned and fled.

Chapter 2

There was no other word for it. I’d intended to stay the night at Ripley’s so I wouldn’t have to negotiate the twisty road that led to her condo complex in the dark, but I knew I could not remain at her party one more second, treacherous road or not. I hoped she’d forgive me for ghosting her like that, but I’d text her when I got home so she wouldn’t worry about me.

The sidewalk was icy and I slipped twice but managed not to fall as I made my way to my parked car. I’m sure anyone who saw me wobbling away from the house assumed I was drunk. I’ve never been good in really high heels and the pair I had on had been worn so rarely that the soles were still slick. Not the best footgear for walking around in what was fast becoming a major snowfall.

My hand was shaking so badly from the cold that it took me three tries to get the car key aligned with the lock on the driver’s side. When I finally yanked the door open, I practically fell into the seat, catching the skirt of my brand-new dress on something sharp. Of course it ripped.

Damn it.

The heater blasted frigid air when I turned on the ignition and I swore again, wishing I’d put on my coat before I’d belted myself in.

Because I’d l wanted to make a grand entrance to the party, I’d left my coat in the backseat of the car and walked the few feet to Ripley’s front door without any more protection than the gossamer chiffon wrap that had come with the dress. Now I was freezing.

So much for making grand entrances, I thought sourly, wondering if anyone besides Leo and Henry had even noticed I was there.

I wasn’t half a mile down the two-lane road when the snow really started to come down in big, fat, fluffy flakes. Visibility quickly deteriorated. I turned on the wipers but they didn’t help much.

I could feel my shoulders tense up. I turned the radio on but heard nothing but static until I tuned in a station playing round-the-clock Christmas music. John and Yoko’s supremely depressing “Happy Christmas” suddenly surrounded me.” Terrific, I thought, because I wasn’t already feeling bad enough.

I turned the radio off and gripped the steering wheel tighter. I was leaning so far forward I could have licked the windshield. On top of everything else, the windows were starting to fog up and the defroster wasn’t working. Bracing myself, I powered the driver’s side window down to let the cold air in.

That helped clear the windows but also let in a freezing wet wind. Within seconds my hands were so cold they went numb.

I could barely see over the hood of my car. It was the 21st and the solstice moon was full, but so obscured by clouds and falling snow that it might as well not even been there.

And then the sky was split with a bolt of lightning followed by the crack of thunder so loud and close it made me jump.

I’d heard of thundersnow but had never experienced it. The lightning flashed through the clouds and snow and I saw all the colors of the rainbow, like the Northern Lights had somehow been trapped by the weather. It was strange and beautiful, but I was too nerved up to really appreciate the show. I flinched every time the thunder rolled.

The temptation to just pull over somewhere and go to sleep was almost overwhelming but I made myself keep going. And then, just as I was about to make a turn onto a freeway feeder road, the sky cracked open with light as multiple lightning flashes went off like synchronized fireworks at a concert.

I looked away to keep from being blinded and in that instant, I hit a patch of black ice and lost control of the car. I tried steering into the slide but it was no use. The car slipped off the narrow track and slid toward the edge of the forest just beyond the blacktop.

I saw a huge Douglas fir looming in front of me and had a split second flashback to a Christmas when Hugh and I were children and we’d helped our parents decorate a Douglas fir so tall the top had to be cut off so it wouldn’t brush the ceiling.

Daddy had lifted me up so I could put the angel on the highest branch. Huey had cried because he wanted to put the angel on the tree. I tried to grab it down to give it to him but instead pulled the whole tree down, smashing the delicate glass ornaments our mother had collected for years.

She had cried.

The memory vanished, swallowed up by the terror of what was about to happen next.

I knew I was going to hit that tree and there was nothing I could do about it.

I tugged my seatbelt even tighter and put up my arms to protect my face.

The car was old. I wasn’t sure the air bag would deploy.

And then the car and the tree collided.

I heard a sound like bells and thought, I can hear the snow. And then I collapsed into a black hole.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious. When I came to, I had a ferocious headache and every muscle in my body ached. Nothing seemed to be broken which did not even seem possible given the state of the car, which had folded around me like a fortune cookie.

The windshield was so cracked it was opaque and I had to wriggle my left foot out of a vise that had been created by the crumpled metal.

I caught a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror and was shocked to see bright blood pouring down the side of my face where flying glass had cut me.

I looked like Carrie at the end of prom night.

I used the pretty chiffon wrap to bandage the wound, and then felt around the front seat for my purse, which had my phone in it.

I didn’t have much hope of getting a signal out here, but at least I could use the flashlight app. After I retrieved my purse, I snagged my coat out of the backseat.

A bag with a change of clothes and sneakers was in the trunk. There was a sweater in that bag, and warm socks. I knew I had to get to that bag but first I had to get out of the car.

I pushed on the door but the frame was so badly bent it was jammed.

The engine had died when I hit the tree, so I couldn’t lower the electric windows either.

I knew I couldn’t just sit in the car and freeze so I considered my options.

I took off one of my ridiculous shoes and started pounding the heel into the fractured windshield, eventually punching a hole in the glass large enough to allow me to climb out onto the car’s hood.

My exit wasn’t graceful. My coat protected me from most of the jagged edges of the crumpled metal but it was sliced to pieces and leaking feathers by the time I managed to maneuver my way to the road. Which was when I realized I’d left the keys in the ignition. I’d have to climb back into the car to get them and that seemed like an impossible feat.

I decided to hike back up to where I’d turned off the road, figuring other party-goers would be coming down and I could hitch a ride.

I looked around for a branch I could use as a walking stick because I knew if I tried hiking in just on those unstable heels, I’d break something before I walked three feet. And it wasn’t exactly as if I could go barefoot.

Moving slowly and carefully, I set out for my destination, tree branch in one hand and my phone in the other. The feeble, makeshift flashlight bounced off the snow without really giving me much in the way of illumination. The moon was no use at all, hiding behind the heavy cloud cover.

It was very quiet.

And then I heard something moving in the trees. Something large enough to make a noise moving.

A bobcat? A coyote? A bear?

I slipped my phone into my coat pocket so I could grab the branch with both hands, quarter-staff style. I knew it wouldn’t be much good as a weapon against anything much bigger than a mouse, but at least I wasn’t empty-handed and that gave me some measure of comfort.

I tensed as whatever it was got closer and then suddenly, a shadow darker than the snow-filled night loomed in front of me.

It was a magnificent stag; larger than any deer I’d ever seen—almost moose sized. And his head was crowned with a multi-pronged rack of antlers that easily spread four feet from tip to tip. And those antlers were shining as if they weren’t made of bone but of …

Silver?

The stag took a step toward me and I stepped back involuntarily. My right heel caught on something and snapped off and I fell heavily, twisting my ankle as I did so.

I cried out in pain and dropped the branch.

The deer lowered his head so that its dark eyes looked directly into mine and then with a toss of his antlers he invited me to climb onto his back.

Not quite believing I wasn’t dreaming, I reached up and grabbed the antlers on each side of his head—they were silver—and allowed the animal to pull me up.

I hauled myself onto his narrow back and practically collapsed, still holding onto the antlers as if they were the handlebars of a bike I was steering.

The stag rose to his full height and ambled back toward the trees.

“No,” I said, frantically trying to turn it around by hauling on the left antler. The deer shook its head and grunted to let me know he wanted me to stop.

At that point, a feeling of complete calm came over me. I wondered if hypothermia was setting in and if the next stage would be “paradoxical undressing” where I ripped all my clothes off as if too hot.

I definitely wasn’t thinking straight but the whole situation felt unreal, so I wasn’t sure if my mind was really retreating in a freezing fog or simply reacting to something that was really happening, no matter how unlikely it was.

I’m riding a magical animal into an enchanted forest, I thought, though where the “enchanted” part came from, I don’t know. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was still back in my car and this was all some sort of dream.

But it felt real.

I let go of one of the antlers to pet the deer’s shoulders. His coat was coarser than I expected, but then, I’d never petted a deer before.

I could feel his body heat warming me as I clung to his back so I hugged him closer and just hung on. Hugh is going to be so jealous, I thought. Growing up we’d lived near an urban trail and often saw deer foraging for berries or vegetables in unfenced gardens. In the spring we’d see does with their spotted fauns drinking from the little creeks that wound their way around our neighborhood but we never got close enough to touch them, even though we tried despite our parents’ constant cautions not to approach the wild creatures.

My mind drifted. I realized it had stopped snowing and what looked like snowflakes in the air were actually flower petals being blown about.

Which made no sense at all.

I realized, too, that the sky was no longer midnight black but rather the purplish-blue of twilight and that the air was no longer frigid but warm as summer.

We were no longer moving through an evergreen forest of spruce and fir and pine but a fragrant woodland where the trees were simultaneously in flower, in fruit, and in full fall foliage.

Although not all was what it seemed. As we passed one tree with gloriously orange leaves, the leaves lifted off the branches and an entire flock of butterflies flew away.

I followed their flight with my eyes and when I looked back at the ground I saw we were approaching a small cottage that looked as if it had come right out of the pages of a storybook.

The stag stopped in front of the cottage and lowered his head, making a noise between a snort and a wheeze.

As if in answer, the door to the cottage swung open.

Chapter 3

A handsome man about my age filled the doorway. He did not seem to be surprised to see either the stag or me but simply smiled a welcome, then looked over his shoulder and said, “Mother, we have a visitor.”

Handsome? That was an understatement. I found myself blushing as I slipped from the back of the deer, bracing myself against his bulk for balance.

The man looked concerned and took a step towards me.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

“I was in a car accident,” I said. “I really need to call Triple A.”

Why that was my first concern, I don’t know, but it seemed easier to focus on the aftermath of my accident than to try to make sense of how I’d ended up in the middle of a summer night when it was freaking December 21st in the Pacific Northwest.

The man looked past me to the stag and said, “Thank you Geweih, she’s safe here.”

The deer made that strange snort/bleat sound and then trotted away.

The man turned his attention to me and gazed deeply into my eyes. It was an intense and intimate gaze and it unsettled me, though there was nothing but kindness in his amber eyes.

“Come in,” he said at last and stood aside to let me pass.

I stumbled a little crossing the threshold and he reached out to steady me, grabbing my elbow and holding onto it as we came into the small, well-kept house.

A very old woman turned from the stove when she heard our steps and she was already smiling. Until she saw me. “Ah,” she cried, as if in pain, then dropped the plate she was holding. It shattered on the polished pine of the floor.

Do I look that bad? I wondered, much too aware of how bloody and bizarre I must look with my fancy dress now in tatters and mud and snow spattering my legs.

“Please don’t be afraid,” I said. “I know I look a fright.”

She snorted a laugh as if what I’d said amused her and replied, “No harm done, dear. I was merely startled. You look very like someone I used to know.”

I didn’t quite know how to respond to that so I merely nodded. “I am Marus,” the man said to me, “and this is my mother, Syla.”

His mother? The math didn’t add up. Marus looked like he was in his early twenties and Syla was ancient, with gray hair so thin her scalp showed through in patches and a face so wrinkled her eyes were almost lost in them. Maybe he was adopted, like I was.

“I’m Hildegard Thomas,” I said, “Hilde.”

“Hilde,” Syla replied, as if tasting the name on her tongue.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” I said, feeling totally ridiculous, “but I had an accident and then I ran into your deer and he brought me here.”

“Yes,” she said. “He is trained to greet travelers.”

“Like a St. Bernard,” I said inanely and she and Marus both looked at me.

“Yes, just so,” she said. “Why don’t you clean yourself up and we’ll see what we can do about your situation.”

“Thank you,” I said. “If you’ll just point me to your bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” she asked, as if she’d never heard the word before, and then she started laughing hysterically. “Marus, show Hilde the…bathroom.” She nearly choked on the word.

WTF? I thought.

Marus smiled at me reassuringly. “It’s not as bad as all that,” he said and led me out the front door and around the back to where a natural hot spring bubbled up in a muddy clearing. There was a path of stones that led to the water’s edge. Grimy towels hung on a little hedge that partially screened the spring and there was a lump of something viscous balanced on the ground within easy reach of anyone who might be in the water.

And where’s the toilet? I wondered.

As if he’d heard the question, Marus said, “If you need to move your bowels, the privy is over there.” He pointed to a small shack almost hidden beneath a large tree.

I shuddered, imagining how many spiders might be inside it.

“Do you need anything else?” Marus asked politely, making no move to leave.

“No,” I said. “I’m good.” Which was not exactly true. I was very far from good. I was actually not good at all, but I was afraid if I said anything else, I might start screaming.

“Excellent well,” he said. He gave me a little bow and then turned back toward the cottage.

I waited until he disappeared around the corner before I let out a deep breath. There wasn’t a window in the back of the cottage and as far as I could tell, we were out in the middle of nowhere, so I slowly began to unpeel my filthy, bloody clothes. I ached all over and the idea of getting into a hot spring was overpoweringly tempting.

Just taking off those torture devices strapped to my feet was bliss.

I lowered myself into the spring and nearly gasped at the heat of the water, but it was no hotter than the whirlpool at my gym.

The pool beneath the spring was about five feet deep, so I knotted my hair into a bun to keep it from getting wet as I allowed the water to engulf me.

The spring carried the dirt away from me and sucked it out of sight.

I touched the goo on the stone and brought it to my nose. It smelled pleasantly herbal, so I rubbed some of it on my skin to see what would happen.

It fizzed and lifted all the blood and grime away from my skin like the best Kbeauty mask ever.

When I finally felt clean, I heaved myself out of the spring using the paving stones for leverage. I was wrapping one of the towels around me when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

I whipped around, holding the towel up, and saw a…

Monster!

I screamed. That preternatural calm I’d been experiencing shredded and in that movement I felt a horrible fear bubbling up in me like the water from the spring. I screamed and retreated back into the spring as the creature stood there, looking bewildered and oddly…apologetic. He backed away, making noises that had the cadence of speech but not the meaning.

Marus came running to see what was happening and when he saw the creature, his expression darkened.

“Allard, no,” he yelled, aiming a kick at the beast.

Allard cowered back, his hands (paws?) raised in a defensive gesture.

He was still making those strange gabbling noises and whatever he was trying to say just made Marus angrier. He rained blows down on him, driving him back and away from the spring.

I was horrified. It was like watching someone beat a clumsy puppy. “Stop,” I said finally. “You’re hurting him.”

Marus turned to me and his amber eyes were mean. “You were screaming,” he said. “I thought you were in distress.”

“I didn’t mean to scream,” I said. “I was just taken by surprise.”

I looked straight at the thing he called Allard. “I’m sorry,” I said to him. “You scared me.”

Allard looked at me with his sad eyes and made another one of those apologetic-sounding noises.

“What did he say?” I asked Marus.

“Who knows?” he said. “He is like a parrot. He can mimic speech but make no sense of it.”

I decided right then that host or not, I didn’t like Marus very much.

He looked at me, taking in my towel-clad form and I didn’t much like the way he was looking at me either. And I again got the feeling that he knew what I was thinking, but all he said was, “Just leave your things. They’re ruined and mother will have something for you to change into.”

Without waiting to see if I was following, he turned and headed for the cottage again. I looked at Allard who gave me a helpless shrug.

You’re a lot of help, I thought. Clutching the towel more closely around me, I stepped barefoot onto one of the paving stones. But when I got to the edge of the paving stones there was still a good five or six feet of mud I’d have to cross. I looked down at my bare, freshly washed feet, and sighed.

Suddenly Allard was there, scooping me up in his hands (paws?) and carrying me like a baby.

Or like King Kong carrying Fay Wray, I thought, although he smelled like a clean, wet dog. When he reached the door of the cottage, he set me down gently before backing away.

“Thank you,” I said to his retreating form, although I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

Syla was alone in the cottage, which was odd, but I was more than happy not to be around Marus. His ferocious treatment of Allard had unnerved me.

She was reading a leather-bound book that looked as ancient as she was. She looked up when she heard me and smiled.

She was missing a tooth.

“You look much better,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“A little,” I said, which was true. I hadn’t eaten before the party and I’d left without eating so much as a pita chip. “But I’d really like to change—”

She interrupted, “Is the hunger a cramp in your gut that makes you want to hunch over?”

“I’m sorry—” I began, but she cut me off again.

“Or is it the pinching kind of hunger that makes you weak?”

“I’m fine,” I said, a little weirded out by the cheerful intensity of her odd questions.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “The hunger eventually goes away.”

She looked at me as if she expected a response.

“That’s good to know,” I said slowly, thinking, I’ve got to get out of here.

“You can’t,” the old woman said, as if I’d spoken aloud.

I looked at her in surprise. “Why not?” I asked.

“You died when you crashed your car.”

No, that’s not possible, I thought.

“She’s going through the stages,” the old woman said to Marus, who had come back into the cottage through a door I hadn’t seen before. He was carrying a bundle of clothes, which he tossed to me.

I couldn’t catch them without letting go of the towel, so it dropped at my feet. He’d given me some sort of tunic thing and what looked like hospital scrub pants.

I bent carefully and picked them up.

I can’t be dead, I thought.

“She’s in denial right now,” Syla added.

“I always forget what comes next,” he said. “Anger or bargaining?”

“Anger,” she said and stared at me expectantly.

And then she started laughing maniacally and her son joined in. “We’re just fooling with you Hilde,” he said, “you’re not dead, you’re in the Verge.”

“It never gets old,” Syla chortled. “You’re dead,” she said, which sent her off into a fresh round of merriment.

You are insane, I thought, and I didn’t much care if she heard that thought or not.

I looked around for some place I could change in privacy. There didn’t seem to be any separate rooms in the cottage, just a big open space with two beds and a table with two chairs and a kitchen area.

Marus didn’t seem inclined to look away so I finally just pulled the tunic on over my head then pulled the towel off as I tugged the pants on.

I really wished I’d gone back into the car for the keys to the trunk. The idea of walking back to the crash scene in my bare feet was not appealing.

I wondered if I could summon the stag like an Uber.

I wondered when I was going to wake up from this nightmare.

“You’re not dreaming Hildegard,” Syla said.

“So you can read my mind,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s one of my many talents.”

I stared at her.

“Who are you?” I asked, but that wasn’t the question I wanted to ask her.

“Do you mean what am I?”

I nodded. She smiled that hag smile of hers and this time there was absolutely nothing kindly in it.

“I’m a witch Hildegard. And I’m your aunt.”

Chapter 4

I gaped at her as she gestured for Marus to leave the room.

As much as I wanted to simply run from the cottage, if she could tell me about my mother, I was willing to stay and listen.

“Sit,” she said, and I pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the table. She frowned. “That’s my chair,” she said and I almost laughed. She frowned again and sat in the chair opposite me. There was an earthenware teapot between us and two cups. She put her hands on the teapot and pressed and there was a glow.

Steam came pouring out of the spout.

She looked at me. “Another of my talents.”

She smirked as she poured us both cups of an herb tea that was nearly as dark as coffee and just as bitter. Chicory, I thought, maybe yerba mate. Taking her cup in both hands, she inhaled the steam, then took a big slurp. I took a tiny sip out of my own cup, thinking that I was probably tasting Syla cooties since I didn’t see any sign of a dishwasher. The liquid was blistering hot and burned my tongue.

“So, you want the tale that only I can tell.”

I realized belatedly that she was asking me a question and said, “Yes. Please.”

She looked at me over the rim of her cup, her eyes hooded and black.

“Your mother and I were twins.”

“What was her name?” I asked.

She grimaced, not happy with the interruption. “Alys.”

Alys? And Syla? “Your name is Alys spelled backwards?”

“Alys is Syla spelled backward,” she corrected me. “We were born with cauls over our faces. Do you know what that means?”

“That you were born still in the amniotic sack?” I said, vaguely recalling a lesson from freshman biology.

She looked annoyed. “It means we were marked as special,” she said. “Gifted as well as beautiful.”

Humble too, I thought.

“We were witches. Self-taught but very powerful. And we wanted to dance with the fairies on the summer solstice so that we could learn fae magic and grow even more powerful.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” I said.

Syla looked at me and snapped her fingers and I felt a pinch on my cheek. “Ow,” I said.

“I’m telling you a story,” she said. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry,” I said and had another sip of the vile tea.

“We knew there was a place in the forest where the fae were rumored to gather on the solstice and so when we were eighteen, we went there, and offered our spells and the Verge opened to us and we entered.”

“the Verge? Where we are now?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently, “will you listen?”

I nodded, biting back my many questions.

“The Verge is just an entryway, an airlock, if you will, a place between the world of the mortal and the world of the fae. To gain passage to the land of light, you must be invited. And we were. For we were beautiful and we caught the attention of Lyrus.

We?

She answered my unspoken thought. “Yes, both of us. For the fae are a greedy race and they take what they want and never mind the consequences.”

There was emotion behind those words, emotion and…pain.

“Lyrus seduced Alys while I found love with Marus’ father.”

Here she paused as if inviting me to ask a question. “So Marus is…part fairy?”

“A halfling,” she said, “like you and your brother.”

And there it was.

I sat back in the chair, trying to wrap my head around her revelation.

But crazy as it seems, this information came as something of a relief. It would explain why Hugh and I had always felt a little different, like we’d never quite belonged anywhere. It would explain why we had always been able to do odd little things that other children couldn’t, like understand what animals were saying and make our toys move by themselves.

Syla began talking again and I had to tell myself to focus on her words.

“Lyrus was thrilled when he found out Alys was pregnant for most fairy women are barren. He was even more delighted when he discovered she was carrying twins.”

Syla’s voice took on a dreamy cast, as if she was half-asleep. It was as if this was a story she had told many times, so often that the details had become a little soft around the edges, like the pages of a book that has been read too many times.

“When the twins were born, they were beautiful,” she said, “but they were not perfect. Each of them had one blue eye and one hazel eye.”

I winced. I’d hated having bi-colored eyes growing up, no matter how many times my adoptive mother had tried to convince me that they marked me as special. No one really wants to be “special” when they’re a teenager because “special” means “different” and teenagers don’t really do different. Syla seemed to smile at my internal monologue and continued, “Lyrus blamed that flaw on Alys, blamed her mortal blood.”

That rang true to me. The fairy tales I read as a child always suggested that the fae guarded their bloodlines more zealously than a white supremacist.

“As time went on, his distaste for his imperfect children grew until at last, in fear that Lyrus would do violence to them, Alys asked me to help her hide her children in the world of mortal men.”

“How?” I asked.

“Our mother had been a maternity nurse,” she said, “so we knew our way around the hospital. It was easy enough to find a woman who had miscarried a child and was willing to accept two babies no questions asked.”

Syla looked at me. “Her husband loved her very much and was willing to handle the…complications.”

She paused in her story. “I’m curious. What did they tell you about your origins?”

“Private adoption,” I said. “They told us they found us in a Ukrainian orphanage while my father was on a sabbatical doing research on medieval Russian folklore.”

Something about that story had never felt quite right to me, and when Hugh and I started looking for our birth mother and found a complete blank, it had seemed even more unlikely.

“What happened to Alys?” I said, because I couldn’t call a woman I’d never known my mother.

Syla gave an odd little grimace that almost looked like a smirk.

“Lyrus was enraged when he found that she had spirited you away and would not tell him where. Distraught, Alys took her own life, stabbing herself in the heart with an iron dagger.”

“No,” I said aloud, horrified.

“Yes,” she said. “I found her body and removed the dagger myself, for iron is death to fairy kind and no one else would touch it.

“I kept it, though, and one day will use it to kill Lyrus.”

She fell silent then and I thought her story was over. “Is that why you stayed in the Verge? Why you didn’t go home?”

“Home?” she laughed. “My home was in the land of light with the father of my child but Lyrus realized that someone had helped Alys kidnap his children and he assumed it was me. So he sent my love to die in the goblin wars and exiled me and Marus to the Verge.”

Syla was starting to breathe hard, freshly enraged by the wrong that had been done to her.

“And he cursed me to look like this,” she hissed, pointing to her face. “I was beautiful,” she said. :He would have restored my youth and beauty if I had just told him where you were. But I owed my sister my silence and so I kept her confidence.”

She looked at me with something close to hatred. “So thanks to you and your brother, my son and I have been prisoners here for twenty-three years.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, and I was, but I still wondered why she simply hadn’t taken Marus and left the Verge.

“I cannot leave without his permission,” she said.

She waved her hand dismissively, as if cleaning an invisible slate. “But you’re here now,” she said, “and that is all that matters.”

I did not like the sound of that and I still didn’t know exactly how I’d come to be in this odd place.

“It was the solstice,” she said, “on the solstice anyone can enter the Verge. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And once again, she started to laugh maniacally.

“So I can’t leave?”

“Not unless Lyrus says you can.”

Okay then. Sounded like it was time to meet my dad.

“How do I contact him?”

“I’m sure he already knows you’re here. But this time of year, he holds the Seelie Court, and will be occupied for a while. You’ll simply have to wait here with us until he deigns to give you audience.”

I’m not good at waiting.

“You can’t always get what you want,” she said. “Do they still play that on the radio?”

“What?” I said, not following her.

“The Rolling Stones,” she said. “Are they still alive?”

“Yes,” I said and then realized there was still one player unaccounted for. I looked around for the beast/man. “Who’s Allard?”

“A mistake of nature,” she said. “A goblin I took in out of the kindness of my heart, only to be repaid in pain and sorrow.” She looked at me keenly. “Goblins are not to be trusted. You should keep your distance from him.”

No worries, I thought and then, I felt ashamed, thinking of the beating he had taken at Marus’ hands.

“It’s late,” she said, “and you are tired. You can sleep in Marus’ bed tonight.”

“Um,” I began, not liking that idea at all.

“He’ll sleep in the woods,” she said. “You won’t be bothered. And besides,” she added, “I’ll be right over there.”

Somehow that didn’t reassure me at all but I was tired. Exhausted, actually, so I reluctantly tucked myself into one of the beds pushed against the walls of the multi-purpose living space.

It was very comfortable and I fell asleep much sooner than I would have thought.

Only to find myself being shaken away by Allard. “Wake up girl,” he said.

I sat up. “You can talk?”

“Listen to me,” he said. “Syla can’t read your thoughts in dreams.”

I’m dreaming?

“She’s not telling you the truth,” he said.

I must have made a noise then for the next thing I knew—

“Hildegard?” Syla’s voice cut through the dark and woke me up.

“What?” I said drowsily.

“Are you having a nightmare?”

My stomach clenched. “The crash,” I lied. “I must have been dreaming about the crash.”

“I can give you a sleeping potion if you like.”

“No,” I said, “I’m good.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to think about Allard. But, there was no getting back to sleep after that.

Chapter 5

The next morning Syla offered me bread and jam and more of the awful tea. I accepted the bread and jam—which was made from some delicious red berry I’d never tasted before—but passed on the tea.

Afterwards I didn’t know quite what to do with myself. I’d retrieved my heels and was tottering around the cottage, trying not to trip over the hem of the long tunic as I paced the space like a panther in a cage. The fourth or fifth time I stumbled, Syla finally looked up from her book.

“Give me your shoes,” she said.

“I don’t like going barefoot,” I said.

She snapped her fingers impatiently and the shoes began quivering on my feet, the ankle straps unbuckling of their own accord.

“Wait,” I said, “I’ll do it.”

The shoes went still.

I pulled them off and handed them over.

She fondled them like she had a fetish. “These are pretty,” she said, and as she handled them, they shrank a couple of sizes.

“You have big feet,” she observed and slipped the right shoe on her own foot. It fit perfectly. She admired her foot from every angle and then shook it off.

I noticed she had a perfect pedicure and wondered how she managed that.

“Magic,” she said, and as I watched, the polish on her toes shifted from a Christmassy red to a berry pink.

And suddenly, it was as if a mental block had been removed and I flashed on a childhood memory I’d buried deep. I was out shopping with a friend and her mom. My mother had given me money to buy something I wanted and when we went into a shoe store, I saw a pair of really cute pink sandals.

Purple was my favorite color then and I’d desperately wanted to find some purple sandals to go with my wardrobe of purple t-shirts and shorts. (My other indulged my preferences and that year I don’t think I had a single piece of clothing that didn’t have purple on it somewhere.)

“Do you have them in purple?” I’d asked the clerk.

“No, hon, only the colors you see out.”

“Pink goes with purple,” my friend’s mother had pointed out and I didn’t want to contradict her because I didn’t want her to think I was a brat. So I’d just looked at the shoes, really hard and then I picked them up and took them to the cashier.

“You changed the color of the shoes,” my friend said to me. “You’re weird.”

“I like purple,” I said, as if that explained it, and happily handed over my money.

My friend and I never went shopping together again.

When I got older, I realized I could change the color of my odd eyes too—making the blue one hazel or the hazel one blue to match the other as my mood dictated. Few people ever really noticed but if they did, I simply said that I was wearing contacts. No one ever questioned that.

I could do other things too, quiet things. Once when my mother was going out to meet a friend for lunch, I’d mended a run in her stocking without her noticing because I knew she’d be embarrassed if her friend saw the run.

And when she was dying, I’d done other things, things I really shouldn’t have been able to do. And Hugh helped me.

At the end of her life, she’d been in such pain that the medication couldn’t touch it but Hugh and I could ease it with a touch. We took turns keeping vigil over her. Our father thought we were too distraught to leave her, but in fact, we were keeping her alive because we weren’t ready to let her go.

Then one night, as the moonlight streamed in a window bright enough we were making shadow puppets to amuse her, she told us it was time for her to leave.

“I need your help,” she’d told us. “But get your father first.”

So we’d fetched our father and while he held the hand of the only woman he’d ever loved, Hugh and I held her other hand and together we opened the door.

“I love you,” she said to us all, but her eyes were on our father alone. And then the part of her that was mortal fell back against the pillows and the shining part of her floated away on the moonlight.

She turned around, just before she disappeared, and blew us a kiss and I felt the weight of it on my cheek.

I came back to the present when I realized Syla was talking to me.

“Here,” she said, holding out a pair of ballet flats she’d apparently fashioned out of my heels. “If you’re too dainty to run around in your bare feet.”

I took the shoes gratefully.

“Thank you Syla,” I said, my voice a little husky from unshed tears.

“Now get out of here,” she said irritably. “I have work to do.”

I hesitated a moment. Get out of here and do what? I thought.

“I can have Marus show you around,” she said.

I kept forgetting she could apparently read my thoughts.

“No, I like wandering around on my own,” I said and made a hasty retreat for the door.

I soon realized Allard was following me. At first I thought he’d been sent to spy on me but I realized that made no sense, so I slowed down to allow him to catch up. He fell into step with me like a dog coming to heel and we walked for a while in silence. At one point we passed the great white stag with the silver antlers and the beast bowed to us.

We walked past a field of flowers that was all shades of blue and I stopped, enchanted, thinking that it would make a beautiful Instagram post. The thought made me laugh and the sound of my laugh seemed to please Allard.

He bent down and rooted among some rocks on the path, choosing one that was smooth and pink, roughly the size of a ping pong ball. He handed it to me with great ceremony.

“Thank you,” I said, somewhat bemused by what seemed a homely little gift.

To my surprise, he stopped and fixed me with an urgent stare, then reached out to pat the pocket of the tunic I wore.

I realized he wanted me to put the stone in my pocket. “A good luck charm?” I asked him and he shook his shaggy head no. “For protection?” I said and this guess elicited an enthusiastic nod yes. “Okay,” I said and slipped the stone into the pocket, where I could feel its weight and heat.

Away from the witch and her awful spawn, Allard didn’t seem so sad and although I would not say he was carefree, there was something light-hearted in his step.

I still couldn’t tell what sort of a creature he was. He was big, with the bulk of a bear but a snout that was more wolf-like. He was covered with rough patches of what looked like tree bark held together with some sort of rubbery membrane.

He was not beautiful but the more time I spent in his company, the better I felt, as if he somehow had the power to alter my mood just by his presence.

We walked for hours and he showed me wonders.

There were animals in the Verge that did not exist in the human world. I saw a green chipmunk with a purple stripe down its back. Allard “called” to it in a chitter that sounded like its own language and the little critter came to me and allowed me to pet its little head.

We saw a strange bird that looked like a red peacock trailing feathers of flame and light. It took flight when it saw me, dropping several of its burning tail feathers. Allard gathered them for me in a bouquet and handled them without the fire scorching him. When he handed them to me, the flames tickled and I laughed.

Everything was beautiful and strange and I found myself wondering how wonderful the fairyland itself must be if this was only the Verge. But every so often as we wandered, we would come up against an invisible barrier that prevented us from continuing on our path. And every time that happened, we would turn around to see that we were in hailing distance of the cottage.

As the day darkened toward sunset, I realized I would have to go back to the cottage for the night.

“Syla will be expecting me,” I said.

He nodded sadly.

I thought of the dream I’d had the night before and the question I’d been meaning to ask him all day but somehow hadn’t. “Can you come to me in my dreams?”

The hangdog expression on his face disappeared. He nodded yes and looked at me hopefully.

“Come to me, Allard,” I said. “Come to me by moonlight,” I added, repeating a scrap of a half-forgotten poem.

Syla didn’t seem particularly curious to know how I’d spent my day. She just pointed me to the table where some sort of stew was sitting in a gently steaming pot. Marus was in one of the chairs, spooning up the food and eyeing me curiously. “You were gone a long time,” he said accusingly.

“I was exploring,” I said. Syla snorted. I did not want either of them asking any more questions so I asked one of my own. “What was happening in the world when you came to fairyland?” I asked.

Syla was intrigued by the question enough to put her book aside. Marus just rolled his eyes.

“We came here in 1993,” she said. “It was a terrible year. You cannot even imagine how terrible.” She gathered her thoughts. “A bunch of religious cultists in Texas died when the FBI stormed their compound.”

“The Branch Davidians,” I said. “I’ve heard about that.”

“And then another group bombed the World Trade Center,” she said.

I shuddered. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her about 9/11 but she caught my reaction.

“What?” she asked. “Did they try again?”

“Yes,” I said but did not elaborate. She seemed disappointed.

“There was a riot in Los Angeles.” She paused to think back. “And a big earthquake in Japan. Bad brushfires in Australia. Bill Clinton was president and that was a disaster of another kind.”

Now it was my turn to snort. And I couldn’t resist. “Hillary ran for president in 2016,” I said.

“huh,” she said, “did she win?”

“The popular vote,” I said. “But the Russians meddled with the election and the Republican won.”

She wasn’t interested in politics. “Michael Jackson was accused of child molestation,” she said.

“He’s dead,” I said.

“Who else is dead?” she asked and I ran through the list of all the people I could think of while she practically salivated.

“David Bowie. Chuck Berry. Prince, Ronald Reagan, Tom Petty, Princess Diana, Heath Ledger.”

“Who?”

“Actor,” I said. “He got a posthumous Academy Award for playing the Joker.”

“Frank Gorshin played the Joker,” she said. “Alys and I used to watch reruns of Batman all the time.”

Her eyes sparkled as I kept feeding her names. It was weird, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep so I could be with Allard and learn more of what was really going on, but if talking about history kept my mind off things I didn’t want her to know, I was going to keep talking.

She knew about AOL and CompuServe and Prodigy but not about Google or Twitter or Instagram or Pinterest. She seemed intrigued by the notion of Facebook and I had a brief fantasy of what it might be like if she ran her own website or blog and the trending hashtag #WitchesBitches.

She didn’t know about Columbine or Aurora or Sandy Hook or Las Vegas. She seemed disappointed that there hadn’t been any women who’d been responsible for mass shootings so I told her about Aileen Wuornos and that cheered her up.

When she finally grew tired of the conversation, Syla told me to take her son’s bed again. He’s skulked away about an hour earlier and had not returned. This time I did not object to the suggestion. In fact, I almost asked Syla for a sleep potion but was afraid that would rouse her curiosity.

Luckily, I didn’t need a potion to fall asleep.

Allard came to me in a little glade surrounding a pool of fresh cool water that was an incongruous swimming pool blue.

Dreams.

He walked so softly that I didn’t know he was there until he spoke. “You must not let them know we are talking,” he said.

“How are we talking?” I asked.

“Dream walking is one of my abilities,” he said. “Syla took away my language when she cursed me to wear this shape, but she cannot take away my powers completely.”

“If she’s powerful enough to do that, to trap you here, why hasn’t she broken out of the Verge?”

“She lives for her revenge on Lyrus,” he said. “I do not think there is any power on earth that would move her from this place until she has seen that come to pass. Now that you are in her hands, she has the means to achieve her goal but she’s ambivalent. She has imagined her revenge for so long, she fears that the reality won’t be satisfying.”

“Like an addict who has to keep taking more and more drugs to get high.”

“Like your brother,” Allard said, and once again I was surprised by his insight.

You know about my brother?

“I have seen him in your memories,” he said, “I have seen him in your dreams.”

He took hold of my hands so that I would focus my attention on him. “I know you have been worried about him but I sense that he is not in any danger.”

“You said you can dream walk. What are your other talents?” I asked. “I’ve never actually known what kind of magic fairies have. And why don’t you have wings?

He laughed at that.

“Not all fairies have wings,” he said. “For one thing, those of us who are human sized would have to have enormous wings in order to be lifted.”

Who knew fairies were so literal minded, I thought.

“I can read your mind too,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He examined my expression to see if I did. “I can teach you how to block your thoughts, if you like.”

My thoughts are yours, I thought and then added out loud, “But can you teach me to read yours?” To my surprise, he…blushed.

“My thoughts about you are not pure,” he said. “I do not wish to frighten you.”

He gestured at his monstrous form as if in further explanation.

But he had already told me that was not his real form and so his words did not frighten me at all. In fact, they intrigued me, but I could see he was uncomfortable, so I changed the subject.

“You seem to have an affinity with the animals here,” she said. “Can you enlist their aid?”

“You mean manipulate them to do my bidding?” He sounded horrified. “That’s not how it’s done.”

I wanted to say, “Then what good is magic if you can’t bend things to your will?” but I was afraid that would make me sound too much like Syla.

“But wouldn’t they want to help you get back to the land of light? Weren’t some of them trapped here when Syla trapped you?”

“The animals can come and go as they will,” he said. “they are not affected by magi.” He looked into the woods as if searching for something. “You have seen the stag with the silver antlers?”

I nodded.

“He is Lyrus’ pet.”

That surprised me but it made sense. I thought of all those stories about Herne the hunter and the green man. “I don’t know how all this works,” I admitted. “All I know I learned from fairy stories.”

“Some of those stories have a lot of truth to them,” he said, “especially the ones collected by Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm.”

“Really?” I said. “Did you know them?”

“I did,” he said, and my mind reeled. That would make Allard more two hundred years old.

“Yes,” he said. “I am that old and I’ve spent many years among the mortals.”

Not like that, I thought and then hastily added, “I mean that your appearance is memorable. You would not be someone easily forgotten.”

“No,” he agreed. “This is not my natural form.”

He looked off into the distance. “Syla condemned me to this body when she captured me.”

“Why did she turn you into a –”

“A nightmare?”

I would have said “monster,” but “nightmare” was close enough so I nodded.

“Because she knows my kind are vain about our beauty.”

He turned to me then and smiled, a hideous snarl that exposed his huge teeth in their black gums.

“What better torment than to give me a face so hideous that even my reflection cannot bear to look back at me?”

I had noticed he cast no reflection in the water but had not wanted to mention it.

“How did you fall into her hands in the first place?”

“Your father sent me to search for you,” he said. “And to travel to the mortal world, I had to pass through the Verge.”

“And you’ve been here ever since?” I said. “That’s horrible. You must hate me.”

“No,” he said. “Please don’t think that. I could never hate you.” He looked down shyly. “You are too beautiful.”

I could feel myself blushing. “You’re kind to say so,” I said.

“You have been badly hurt by someone,” he said. “Someone who said he loved you but did not.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “Yes,” I whispered.

“That is not your shame Hildegard,” he said, “the fault belongs to him, for not appreciating your value.”

I felt tears come to my eyes. This was something I had said to myself numerous times, but to have someone else say it, so kindly—so lovingly—almost did me in.

“I’ve distress you,” he said. “Forgive me, that was not my intention.”

“I’m fine Allard,” I said and changed the subject. “You say Lyrus sent you to find me and Hugh? Why did he leave you in Syla’s hands all these years? Why didn’t he rescue you?”

He looked at me with his big, soft eyes. “Time unwinds differently in the fae lands than it does here in the Verge. What I experienced as a captivity of many years has been but a moment in Lyrus’ time. He has likely not even noticed that I have not yet returned.”

All those stolen years, I thought. “What an ugly bitch.”

He raised his head at that. “Syla is in her middle years now but still quite beautiful. You truly see her as ugly?”

“Hideous,” I said.

“Interesting,” he said, sounding excited. “You must have the soul sight. Your mother did as well.”

There was so much I didn’t know about my mother.

“Soul sight?”

“The ability to see people as they really are, no matter what kind of glamor they project.”

“Then why does Marus still look handsome to me?” I asked. “And why did I not see your nobility at first?”

“You are still new to the Verge. Your powers are not yet fully—”

“Alive?” I asked.

“I would say ‘awakened,’ but yes.”

Another childhood memory suddenly surfaced. Hugh and I were at a birthday party. I don’t think we were even in school yet because after we started school, we didn’t go to parties together.

There was a magician to entertain us and I’d been very impressed when he pulled a fluffy orange tabby out of his top hat instead of a rabbit.

Later, he walked around the party making balloon animals for everyone. I asked him to make me a unicorn and he obliged. When I got home, I’d made the balloon unicorn prance around the room all by itself. Mother had walked in just as the balloon made a particularly high jump, but she thought I’d just thrown it up in the air to amuse myself.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see what was right in front of her.

“We have to go,” Allard said suddenly, urgently.

“Why?”

“Marus is here.”

“In my dream?” I asked but before the words were out of my mouth, Allard had disappeared. I swam up out of my sleep to find Marus leaning over me, watching me with hungry eyes.

“Get away from me,” I said and threw out my hand defensively.

Marus recoiled, as if I’d slapped him. “What did you just do to me?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, but I’d felt a surge of power leave my hand and leap toward him.

“Mother,” he called out and a moment later I heard Syla’s harsh voice.

“What?”

He turned to her and began speaking rapidly in a language that sounded like rippling water over smooth stone.

And I realized I understood what they were saying as Syla berated her son for frightening me and he replied that I had used some sort of power to block him away. She was interested in that. “Witch power or fae?” she asked.

“I can’t tell,” he replied sulkily.

She looked over at me and I made my mind go as blank as possible, hoping they would buy my pose of confusion.

Apparently it did because Syla said, “Go back to sleep Hildegarde. Marus won’t bother you again.”

I nodded and turned on my side. I fell asleep again and this time I dreamt another memory.

Hugh and I were three. He was still not able to say R and said “wabbit” instead of rabbit when we watched cartoons. Our parents talked to us constantly, wanting us to have a wide vocabulary and the tools for communication. And they had noticed Hugh and I have a secret language. Our father was worried about this and so, though she never admitted it, was our mother.

I knew she’s worried because I’d heard her talking to her best friend on the phone.

“They’re so strange,” my mother had said, “I worry about what will happen when they start school. Kids can be so cruel.”

My father had come into their bedroom in time to hear this last comment. “The kids will be fine,” he said. “But we should have them tested.”

Mother vetoed that idea. “I don’t want them to feel like freaks.”

Too late, I thought.

And then was back in the Dream Verge and floating in a pool beneath a fingernail moon. I can see Allard’s bulky shadow sitting cross-legged nearby.

“You mustn’t let Syla or Marus know that you can understand them,” he said.

“I won’t,” I said.

“You won’t mean to,” he said, sounding worried. “Tomorrow let us explore your talents.”

Yes, I thought, let’s.

Chapter 6

The next morning I slipped away from the cottage before Syla was awake.

Allard was waiting for me beneath a tree, eating a fruit that looked like a hot pink apricot but with a shockingly lime-green, jelly-like flesh.

“What are you eating?” I said, forgetting that in the daytime, he couldn’t speak.

But to my surprise, I heard his voice in my head.

It’s called a sochen, he said. You don’t have them in your world?

“Allard,” I said. “I can hear you.”

His face split into that hideous grin again. I had hoped that would happen, he said without speaking. The Verge can either dampen or amplify a talent. You are heir to both fae and human magic, so…

“Do you think I’ll be able to read Syla and Marus’ minds?” I asked aloud.

Possibly his mind but Syla guards her thoughts very carefully.

I thought he might say something more but instead, he reached up to pull another fruit from the tree.

You must try one. He broke it in half with a practiced twist of his hands and plucked out the large flat seed in the center, discarding it before he handed me the fruit with two hands.

You are the stone of my heart’s fruit.

What?

I looked at him. “What is that, poetry?”

He looked down at his huge feet. I forgot you can understand my tongue.

“It’s a beautiful thing to say.”

Taste, he said.

I could tell he wanted to change the subject so I took a bite of the fruit.

Tastes exploded on my tongue. The delicate flesh practically melted in my mouth, leaving behind a vaguely citric taste that was at once sweet and sour and almost fermented, like a really good Jell-O shot.

“Thank you,” I said.

You’re welcome, he said formally. He looked away from me then and into a shadowy corner of the orchard.

Marus is watching us. We should walk.

I looked around casually but did not see Marus anywhere. It did not surprise me he could blend into the background, like a rattlesnake lying in wait.

Allard walked away from me, following an almost invisible trail in the brush.

Twining vines, some of them with sharp thorns, caught at my clothing and lodged in his pelt. When he judged we were far enough away from Marus not to be observed, Allard slowed down and fell back to walk at my side.

Your mother could summon creatures, he said. Is that one of your talents?

I thought about how easy it was for Hugh to befriend dogs and cats. “No,” I said, “but I think it’s one of my brother’s.”

I saw a yellow flower hanging from a low-lying branch and plucked it. “I can do this,” I said, and held it until the blossom turned orange, then red, then faded to pink. I could feel his amusement and started to bristle until I realized he was taking pleasure in my little trick and not mocking me.

“I can make things move on their own,” I said.

That could be very useful, he said.

“I’ve only done it with small things,” I said, thinking of the balloon animals and small toys I’d flown around my room when I was little.

Why don’t you try it with that rock? He suggested, pointing to a largish chunk of quartz half-embedded in dirt.

I picked it up and hefted it in my hand experimentally. Then I threw it up in the air.

Allard followed its trajectory hopefully and then winced as the rock fell to the ground at my feet.

Damn, I thought, but then I had an idea. I picked it up and threw it again but this time I scooped the air with my other hand, as if grabbing a handful of it, and I flung the air at the stone.

It stopped falling and hovered between us.

“Hah!” I said, extremely pleased with myself.

Excellent, he said and I could tell he meant it. This mind-to-mind communication was the best.

I continued playing with the rock as we walked.

Allard told me the forest path marked the boundary of the Verge and every so often he’d have me try to walk past the invisible barrier that we’d run into before.

I had so many questions to ask him, and he was willing to answer, but he kept bringing the topic back to how he could help me escape from the Verge.

Syla is planning something terrible, he said, and she will want to use you for some dire purpose.

“We’ll leave together,” I said, because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Allard to the un-tender mercies of Syla and her son.

He shook his head.

In this shape? How long do you think I would remain alive if mortals saw me?

“We’ll make Syla reverse the curse,” I said.

She will not, he said, and changed the subject yet again.

The sun was nearly down when we came to a part of the Verge I had not yet seen. I saw little winking purple lights all around a bush with dark green berries.

“Fireflies?” I guessed and Allard laughed.

It was a good sound.

Look again, he said.

I did and I realized that what I was seeing was not flying bugs but tiny little fairies. I thought of Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell and wondered if J.M. Barrie had been inspired to write his masterpiece by a visit to the Verge.

They flew up in my face as if to examine me, then flew away.

“I scared them,” I said, disappointed.

No, they simply have a very short attention span.

He held out his hand to me. A tiny, dark green berry rested there.

Taste, he encouraged.

“Thank you Allard,” I said and took the berry from him and put it in my mouth.

It tasted of nothing more than mouth but when I swallowed, it hit my stomach like a six-course Christmas feast with all the trimmings. I could taste each dish separately—roast turkey and mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts wrapped in bacon, and warm sourdough rolls and green bean casserole, which I secretly love but always pretended to hate because it was made with canned stuff and my parents hated using canned stuff.

I could even taste the persimmon pudding and sweet whipped cream.

Good? He asked.

“Yes Allard, it was very good, thank you.”

I wanted you to have your Christmas feast, he said.

I’d forgotten that it was almost Christmas. Allard’s kindness suddenly made me want to cry. Instead I grabbed his furry shoulders and impulsively pulled him close…close enough to kiss.

Hildegarde, he said, and though he wore a rough pair of linen breeches much like those Marus wore, the clothing did little to contain his erection.

He was bending his great beastly head toward mine when Marus suddenly came thrashing down the path, wildly waving a crude iron dagger.

My first reaction was not fear but curiosity. Is that the weapon that ended my mother’s life?

“You human slut,” he roared, “you reject me and treat this thing tenderly?”

I could see the fur on Allard’s back and shoulders rise in a threat-display but I put my hand on his arm. I didn’t want him getting anywhere near that dagger if it was true, as Syla had told me, that iron would kill fairies.

“You’re half-human yourself,” I reminded Marus. “And my cousin. Do you know what happens when cousins have sex with each other?”

“Never say that,” he said. “Never call me human.”

“Okay,” I said, and made myself shrug. “You’re inhuman.”

As I’d hoped, that ratcheted things up considerably. Marus was a bully and I’d had some experience with bullies. Meeting his threats with contempt would enrage him and tempt him to making a mistake.

“You bitch,” he screamed and he swung the dagger in a wide arc.

He was aiming for my neck but before his arm had even begun the downward motion, Allard was on him like a dog on a bone.

They wrestled for the knife as I tried to find something, anything, I could use for a weapon.

And then I heard Allard scream.

I turned, horrified, to see him fall, bright blood spurting from the wound Marus had inflicted.

“No,” I yelled, and rushed at Marus, who easily swatted me away, backhanding me with such force that I fell to the ground.

He pounced then and began tearing at my clothes, ripping the tunic from neckline to hem so that it fell away.

Exposing the tattoo on my hip.

It was glowing as if on fire, searing my flesh as if I was being branded.

I howled in pain and scrabbled away from the witchling who stepped forward with a sneer on his face and then…stopped as another man stepped out of the trees.

“My lord,” he said, and dropped to his knees in a sign of total submission.

Chapter 7

The fairy ignored Marus and looked at me.

He was unmistakably my father. He looked like a slightly older, much more perfect version of Hugh, though I’d never seen an expression as cold as his on my brother’s face. I tried to meet his gaze calmly but the anger radiating from him was so intense, I could almost feel it physically.

All of a sudden I found myself thinking that this was like a bad joke. A fairy, a witch, and a mortal walk into the Verge...

For a moment we all stood there, looking at each other. Then, when the fairy turned toward Allard, Marus began moving backwards on his knees, his movements as frantic as a cornered mouse.

I stepped toward him, not sure of what I intended, but I stopped when an unfamiliar voice spoke in my head.

Let him go, the voice said. What has happened here?

“Marus stabbed Allard.”

I looked at Allard again. His fur had faded from a rich brown to a sickly orange. Some tufts of hair were falling out, leaving behind patches of red, raw flesh, as if he had radiation sickness.

“He used an iron knife,” I added.

The man’s eyes flickered to the shape on the ground and his cold expression melted into alarm. “Allard,” he said aloud, taking an uncertain step forward.

“He’s under an enchantment,” I said, “he can’t speak.”

The man leaned over Allard, examining the wound and the dagger that was buried hilt-deep in his body.

“You are not mistaken,” he said. “It is iron. I cannot touch it without harming myself.”

Cannot. I’d noticed that the way fairies speak was always quite formal, as if it was beneath their dignity to use contractions. But maybe it’s because English is not their native language.

Focus! my inner voice admonished me as my thoughts skittered off in a dozen directions to avoid the reality right in front of me.

Allard is dying. You can help him. I was not sure if it was my own thought or the fairy’s but it shook me out of my torpor.

“Get out of my way,” I said and the fairy who was my father looked as if he wanted to admonish me for my rudeness but I was tired of being Miss Nice Guy. If iron was fairy kryptonite, then it was time for a mortal to step in.

I leaned over Allard and took his hand. I could feel his pain. I reached out to grasp the dagger’s hilt and a searing pain shot through my heart.

WTF? Yes, I now knew I was part fae but I’d handled iron objects all my life without harm.

It’s the Verge, Allard said in my head. It has brought out your fairy nature.

Well damn.

And then I realized that I didn’t need to actually touch the thing to remove it. I knew from a long-ago first aid class that pulling a weapon out of a wound was not best practices but I could see the iron was poisoning him from the inside. He couldn’t wait for a better option.

“This is probably going to hurt,” I said.

And it probably won’t work, I thought to myself.

I have confidence in you, Hildegarde, he thought back.

I looked at the dagger and concentrated hard. It moved maybe half an inch and as it did, Allard groaned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I said.

“Continue,” the newcomer said.

I whipped my head around and met his ice blue eyes. “Do not tell me what to do,” I said.

Now I’m talking without contractions. Must be contagious.

He looked surprised and stepped back. “Please help him,” he said. “Allard is very dear to me.”

“And to me,” I said and turned back to him.

I concentrated harder and imagined taking hold of the weapon and pulling it out. It started moving but so agonizingly slowly that I thought about just putting my actual hands on it. But I didn’t know what that would do to my half-fae self and if I couldn’t get that dagger out, Allard was going to die.

Finally, with one last mental push, the blade came free with a gruesome sucking sound.

Allard groaned once more and then fainted.

The dagger had plugged the wound and now that it had been withdrawn, he was bleeding out.

My father knelt beside us. “Now you must get out of my way,” he said. “Healing is my talent.”

“Can I help?” I asked, but he was already deep into some kind of trance and did not reply.

He spoke words over Allard that were in a language older than the fae tongue that Hugh and I had spoken as children without realizing it.

The cadence was like a prayer or an invocation but nothing seemed to be happening except that little by little, the blood stopped flowing.

That alarmed me. “Is his heart still beating?” I asked.

“Yes, but it is fading.”

He leaned back and sighed. “I have done what I can for him.”

He let out a whistle-warble that sounded like a birdcall and suddenly the white stag with silver antlers appeared. The noble animal knelt before him and the fairy lord spoke to him in that ancient language. Then he rose and picked up Allard as if he weighed no more than a baby and put him on the beast’s back.

“Take him home,” he whispered.

“I want to go with him,” I said.

“No,” he said. “We have more urgent business.”

I must have looked defiant because he added, “Allard is much beloved in my land, he will be well cared for until we return.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I said, and he smiled.

“You have a fierce spirit” he said. “You inherited that from your mother.”

My mother. I had a lot of questions about my mother.

As the stag disappeared into the forest, the fairy held out his hand to help me rise.

“I am Lyrus,” he said. “Your father.”

No shit Captain Obvious.

“I’m Hilde,” I answered.

“You look like your mother,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. After what Syla had told me, I did not know what to expect.

As if he could read my thoughts…

Could he read my thoughts?

…Lyrus said, “We have much to discuss, daughter, but first you need to tell me of Marus and Syla. Does the witch still live?”

“Yes,” I said. “And she had some stories to tell me. Like how my mother died.”

A look of incredible pain came over his face.

“I don’t know what Syla has told you but perhaps you would listen to my side of the story.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“There will be time for your questions,” he said. “But first we must go to the cottage and retrieve Syla’s Book of Secrets before she hides it.”

“Book of Secrets? That big leather-bound book she is always reading?”

He nodded. “It may contain the spell she used to curse Allard. It is the key to reversing the magic.”

“Let’s go,” I said. “We can talk on the way,” I added, because I really, really, really wanted some answers to my questions.

It was like pulling teeth to get the story out of Lyrus, possibly because the tale did not reflect well on him. As Syla had told me, both she and her sister had caught Lyrus’ eye on that mid-summer solstice twenty-some years ago. He’d had sex with both of them—he called it “dallying—and apparently a good time had been had by all.

They might have happily lived as a ménage à trois if Alys had not fallen pregnant with Hugh and me at which point Lyrus had cast Syla aside. Apparently neither he nor my mother had considered Syla’s feelings in the matter. Nor had they entertained the possibility that Syla might also be pregnant.

“Wait,” I said. “Marus is my brother?”

Eeuw.

“I don’t believe that he is,” Lyrus said, “though she certainly wanted everyone to think so. That’s why she gave him a name that only exists in my family.”

“So she never had another lover? You never sent her love to die in the Goblin Wars?”

“No. And no.”

I chewed on that for a moment and felt just a sliver of sympathy for my aunt, who’d been so desperate to “sell” me her version of the story that she’d created a “Canadian boyfriend.”

“When you born, Alys and I were very happy,” he said.

“Even though we have bi-colored eyes?” I said skeptically.

“Do mortals consider that a flaw?” he asked.

“I don’t,” I said, and there was an edge of anger in my voice that I couldn’t control. “But I’m told it is the reason you had us sent away, because we were not perfect in your eyes.”

“Syla lied,” he said. “Having double-colored eyes is considered quite lucky among my folk. And I never sent you away.”

A fresh spasm of pain twisted his perfect face. “You were stolen away,” he said. “I suspected Syla had something to do with it but short of torturing her to death to get the truth, there was little I could do but banish her to the Verge and close both borders against her.”

“And my mother?” I said.

“Your mother went mad when we lost you. I sent Allard to search the world for you. When he did not return immediately, Alys fell into deeper despair and while the balance of her mind was disturbed, she took her own life.”

There was genuine grief in his voice and I realized that for him it was a fresh grief. If time worked differently in the Verge, these events would have just happened weeks ago in his world and not years.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, thinking, poor woman. I felt a pang of grief of my own but mostly hearing this was like listening to a fairy tale, where all the mothers and fathers seem to die. I had never known my mother, nor ever would, and that was a pain I’d grown used to.

“How many years was Allard Syla’s captive? I’m twenty-three,” I said. “Has it been all that time?”

He made a sound that was almost a sob. “Syla will pay.”

We both fell silent as we approached the cottage.

I knew Marus would have warned Syla Lyrus was in the Verge. I knew that she would be planning a nasty reception.

Chapter 8

“Lyrus,” Syla said. “You’re looking well.”

Lyrus didn’t bother to reply. I realized he was checking out the room. Syla was sitting on her bed, holding that leather-bound book. Marus was standing at the table. It was like the standoff in an old spaghetti western. Marus was practically vibrating with suppressed rage.

The tension was so thick I couldn’t stand it.

“Marus tried to kill Allard,” I said to Syla.

She glanced at her son. “Tried?” she asked, and he flinched as if the contempt in her voice had physically wounded him.

“He came,” Marus said, sounding like a sulky toddler as he pointed a bony shoulder n Lyrus’ direction.

Syla turned her attention back to my father.

“Where is Allard now?”

“Back in the land of light,” Lyrus snapped. “Where he belongs.”

Syla’s mask of cold contempt slipped a bit.

“It used to be my home too.”

She put aside the leather-bound book—her Book of Secrets—and rose to her feet. It might have been a trick of the light but it seemed that she was several feet taller than usual. “You made a mistake exiling me here, Lyrus. What you did was bottle up the Verge’s magic while letting fae and mortal magic leak in at the borders. I’ve been soaking it all up for almost a quarter of a century. I’m stronger than you are now.”

“Don’t flatter yourself witch,” Lyrus responded. “You cursed Allard and you’ve held my daughter against her will, but that’s all. And Hilde is coming with me now.”

“What makes you think I intend to let her go?” Syla asked, reptilian lips curving up in a mimicry of mirth.

“Because I’ve asked you for her,” he said. “And I won’t ask twice.”

Wow, dad’s a bad ass. Who knew?

Without looking at me, Lyrus said, “Fetch me the book on her bed.” Syla looked alarmed for a second before she mastered her emotions again.

I stepped forward and Syla made a twitching motion with her hand that stopped me in my tracks.

“You do not want to bring this fight here,” Lyrus said. “Not here and not with me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marus move.

“Lyrus,” I cried, and he turned to meet the threat, holding up his hand like a traffic cop.

Marus fell as if he’d run head-first into a concrete wall.

Syla didn’t react.

“The book,” Lyrus said.

I nodded and took another step toward the bed. Syla made that odd twitching motion with her hand again and this time I felt a cold hand clutch my heart. I cried out and she smiled. Lyrus glanced at me and in the instant his attention was off Marus, the witch-boy sent a bolt of some sort of energy at him. It bounced off Lyrus and rebounded on him.

As the energy hit him, Marus exploded into a million little pieces. There was no blood, only a faint spray of what looked like brackish water.

That did get a reaction from Syla.

“Marus,” she screamed and ran to his remains, trying to gather them up as if they were ashes spilled from a hearth.

I could feel an implacable pity radiating from Lyrus. He hadn’t wanted to kill Marus but he felt no guilt either.

She looked up at us and spit, and where her spittle hit the floor, it sizzled.

“You’re just like her,” she said to me, nodding at the book in my arms. “Always wanting what was mine.”

“Is that why you drove her to kill herself?” I asked, “by kidnapping me and Hugh?”

“I told the goblin to kill you. I did not know he would be so tender-hearted as to let you live.”

“Why?” Lyrus asked her.

“Because I loved you and you loved her.”

He shook his head. “There was never any love in you,” he said, “you coveted my talent but that was all.”

“We were twins,” she said. “As alike as peas in a pod.”

“You were nothing alike,” he said. “Your evil made you ugly.” He glanced at me, saw that I had picked up the book he sought. “My daughter and I are leaving now,” he said. “We won’t see you again.”

She looked bewildered for a moment. “But…you can’t leave me here alone.”

Her plea came out as a whine.

“You’re free to go back to the mortal world,” he said. “I was wrong to deny you that passage.”

“But I want to go back to the land of light.”

He shook his head. “That border will remain closed to you forever.”

Her disbelief slowly morphed into fury. “I will kill you Lyrus.”

Lyrus did not look particularly alarmed by that threat.

“Farewell, Syla.”

In answer, she curled her fingers and then gestured like she was unleashing a fast ball over home plate.

Straight at me.

I felt the tattoo on my hip pulse with heat and instinctively brought the book up to shield my face.

Whatever dark magic she had flung at me hit her Book of Secrets instead.

“No,” she screamed as the book disintegrated, just as Marus had.

“No,” I echoed, realizing my instinctive action might have doomed Allard to a life trapped in a beastly body. Nononononono.

Syla took a step forward and Lyrus muttered a few words that stopped her.

She crumpled to the floor in utter defeat. “My book,” she said. He said nothing.

I was left with empty hands and a burning pain on my hip.

“Come,” Lyrus said, ushering me out of the cottage ahead of him. I was glad to have him at my back because I was sure the furious witch was going to loose a few more lightning bolts at us in parting. But no such magical attack came and when we left the house, we found Geweih, the silver-horned stag, waiting for us.

Lyrus helped me mount, then got up behind me.

“Take us home,” he said and the animal obeyed.

We traveled in silence for a little while and then I said, “It might have been kinder to kill her,.”

My father snorted. “You mortals are much too sentimental.”

His voice was cold and I shivered.

Though there was no border that I could see, I knew the moment we crossed from the Verge into the fae-lands. Everything suddenly seemed more vivid, like that moment in the Wizard of Oz when everything transforms from black and white to color.

Geweih picked its way along a path of mossy stones that wound between dozens of little lakes fringed with a riot of wildflowers. We eventually came to the foot of a granite mountain incongruously topped with snow although the air was very warm.

“It snows here?” I asked, surprised.

“No,” he said, looking up at the snow as if he hadn’t seen it before. “That is just a bit of magic.”

“Set decoration,” I said but he didn’t seem to understand what I meant, so he didn’t answer.

There was a cave-like opening hidden behind a barrier of rose bushes filled with great double blossoms. The stag moved through the bushes as if the thorns were made of rubber and totally harmless.

He stopped at the entrance so we could get off his back and then Lyrus sent him off with an affectionate slap to his flanks. Geweih gave him such an adoring look I have though he might roll over for a belly rub.

I don’t know what I expected a fairy’s home to look like. Maybe something like Rivendell from Lord of the Rings. This was not that.

Lyrus’ home was carved out of living rock covered in moss so thick it looked like green fur. It was filled with fantastical furniture crafted from woods I didn’t recognize and hides from creatures whose names I couldn’t begin to guess.

But I wasn’t there to gawk at my surroundings like I’d just rented a particularly exotic Airbnb. “Where’s Allard?” I asked.

Without looking at me, Lyrus said, “I will take you to him but then you must go.”

Go?

“I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s okay.”

Lyrus did look at me then. “Nothing good will come of it Hildegarde.”

“That’s not really your decision to make, is it?”

I was starting to get the hang of this “standing up for myself” thing.

“Come then,” he said.

We found Allard lying on a bed in a tower that was part of a massive Sequoia tree. Dozens of the little firefly fairies were in attendance and when Lyrus entered the tower, their color changed from purple to a deep green. It seemed to be some sort of gesture of respect, for after Lyrus nodded gravely in response, their color returned to “normal.”

Allard looked peaceful, but he was so still it looked like he was laid out on a funeral bier rather than sleeping. He had been draped to the neck in a living coverlet woven of wildflowers and butterfly wings and his long fur was braided with more flowers. Absurdly, I thought of a Pinterest page I’d once seen that was devoted to pictures of men with flowers in their beards.

“Allard,” I said softly, moving to the side of his bed. He did not stir, but several of the butterflies on his coverlet were agitated by my presence and rose to dance around my face as if scolding me for disturbing his sleep.

His arms lay outside the coverlet and I picked up one of his hands and held it in both of my own.

There was an old scar on his palm, the remnant of a horrible injury. I kissed an irregular, raised mark. “Come back to me,” I whispered but there was no response.

I don’t know how long I stood there before Lyrus spoke.

“If he could be brought back to us by sheer force of will, your devotion would have achieved that goal already.”

I turned to smile at him, knowing he meant the words kindly even though they held no comfort at all.

“Hope springs eternal,” I said, just to say something to fill the silence between us and the hollow feeling growing in my belly.

He frowned. “Hope,” he repeated, as if it was an unfamiliar word, and then he said it again with a different inflection but no real feeling.

He really is bad at this, I thought.

“When I told you I did not approve of your affection for Allard, I was not being truthful,” he said, his voice low and his eyes on the man we both loved. “My words were not truly rooted in disapproval, but rather in fear.”

“Fear?” I asked, giving him my full attention.

“We fae look human enough but we’re not. And that can be …”

He searched for a word and I fought the impulse to fill in the blanks. Troublesome? Worrisome? Disastrous?

“Tragic,” he said finally.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I said. “Half of my heart is fae after all.”

“But will half be enough?” he asked, but didn’t seem to expect an answer, so I kept silent.

After a while, Lyrus patted me awkwardly on the shoulder and left soundlessly, leaving behind the slight smell of violets he seemed to carry around like a tangible aura.

Alone, I took up my vigil, staring at Allard’s sleeping form and my mind wandered to a conversation he and I had had about fairy tales. Allard had told me that many of the fairy tales collected by the Grimm brothers actually had their basis in fact. “Sleeping Beauty” was one of the best-known fairy tales on the planet.

Could it be? I thought. Could a kiss be the way to end the curse?

I looked at Allard.

He did not seem to be in any distress but his eyelids were so thin I could see his pupils dancing behind them in the grip of some dream.

His fur was drenched and matted with fever sweat even though the little fairies seemed to be fanning him with their wings.

I bent down and closed my eyes and kissed him.

It was like kissing a shaggy bathmat.

Until I felt the fur melting away and opened my eyes.

And where the beastly Allard had been a moment ago, there was now a man lying on the bed.

And he was beautiful in a way that was very different from Lyrus’ perfection. For one thing, he shone. Literally. His hair was silver-gilt silk and long, framing a face that was pale and metallic looking. But as I stared in wonder, the silvery cast of his skin was replaced by a healthy pink blood-blush, and his hair faded to the color of ripe wheat in sunlight.

It worked! I can’t believe it freaking worked.

I have confidence in you, Hildegard, Allard said in my mind. And then he opened his eyes.

“You have saved me,” he said. “I thought I would be cursed forever.”

“I don’t think she’ll be cursing anyone for a long time,” I said.

“I dreamt of that,” he said, “when you destroyed her Book of Secrets.”

It hadn’t exactly been on purpose but if he wanted to give me credit, who was I to deny it?

He threw off the coverlet, scattering the tiny fairies. He thanked them for watching him and dismissed them as he stood up.

Oh my God.

His body made Michelangelo’s David look like a pencil-dicked troll. He was slender, but his muscles were well-defined, without that exaggerated man-boob thing that so many muscular guys get. Shirtless Chris Hemsworth.

That. Only better.

And not to objectify, but Allard had a gorgeous cock.

Not that I’d had a lot of real-life experience for comparison, but my mother had taught art history and there’d been all those paintings of naked saints and martyrs to look at in her books.

“How did you know how to break the curse?” Allard asked, as my gaze lingered at his waist.

“You are not looking at my waist,” he said out loud with a faint smirk.

I blushed all the way to my toes, although he spoke the truth.

“It’s in all the stories,” I said. “True love’s kiss.”

“The storytellers often lied,” he said. “they knew if they revealed the truth of what they saw while they were in the land of light there would be consequences.”

He took a step toward me. “But happily, in this instance, they seem to have shared a truth.”

“What kind of consequences?” I asked because I could feel his arousal even though he was not yet erect and even though we were not yet touching. That felt strange.

But in a good way, because I was drowning in my own anticipation.

“The fae would have moved on to other realms if they thought their secrets were being revealed.”

“I’m glad they didn’t,” I said. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Why are we still talking? I thought and a moment later we weren’t.

Kissing is better when both people are participating and kissing Allard was worth the wait. His mouth tasted incredible, like honeyed wine.

Fairies must have incredibly good dental hygiene I thought, wondering what my own mouth must taste like since I’d been away from a toothbrush for several days.

Allard raised his head from mine and looked at me quizzically. I felt the ache of separation all the way down to my throbbing groin.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m a Pisces. We’re really bad at this romance thing.”

Perhaps you have not read enough fairy tales,” he said and then he kissed me again.

And then we did other things…and all thought was lost in overlapping waves of sensation.

He took me to his flower-covered bed and I realized I could feel his pleasure as keenly as my own. The experience was…transcendent.

He knew without asking what I liked. He nibbled on my earlobes as if they were tender fruit, lighting a fire in my nether regions that I knew only one thing would quench. And when he lifted my breast and licked around the nipple, I almost came right off the bed.

He knew how to use his hands and where he touched me, he left behind little pulses that electrified my senses.

“Now,” I whispered, or maybe simply thought and I felt his smile.

“Yes,” he said, and I could feel his heart going like mad. “Yes.”

He plunged into me then and the heat of it was so intense I thought it might fuse us together forever.

I pulled him closer, wanting all of him, wishing I could enter him as completely as he’d entered me and then I realized I could because I was in his mind and there was no boundary between what he was feeling and my own sensations.

We rolled together, and the loving went on and on—no fifteen minutes and then off to sleep. Sometimes he was on top, sometimes I was. We went up Magic Mountain, my back against his chest as he drove deep into me, going way past my G spot and creating a brand-new H spot.

Our tangled limbs wove together in patterns maybe the Kama Sutra could name, but I couldn’t.

I made noises I’d never made before and heard them echoed in his mind.

I didn’t know it was possible to have more than five orgasms in a row and not die. Although I might have actually lost count.

Afterwards, Allard must have sent out some nonverbal command because human-sized fairies came into the tower room with towels and basins of sweet water and fresh clothes for us—ordinary, everyday clothes, which surprised me.

He answered my unspoken question.

“I thought you might want to see your brother,” he said. “I thought these clothes might be more appropriate.”

“You know where he is?”

“I walked into a dream of his,” he said, “while I was waiting for you.”

“Where?”

He touched the tattoo on my hip. “At the place where you received the Ascaris.”

“What is the Ascaris anyway?”

He looked surprised that I didn’t know.

“It is the symbol of the house of Lyrus, hour house. That’s why Lyrus came when you were attacked in the woods. The symbol called to him.”

“Like the bat symbol,” I said. Allard looked perplexed.

Never mind, I said.

My car was still in the little clearing, so deeply embedded into that giant Douglas fir that it looked like two different species were trying to mate. And I shuddered when I saw the crumpled metal and thought how plausible it had been for me to believe Syla when she told me that I had died in the crash.

Allard saw me shiver.

“You are distressed, beloved,” he observed. “We should leave this place.”

Beloved. I liked the way that sounded.

Allard took my hand and kissed it and where his lips touched my skin they left little fiery imprints that I could feel but not see.

In truth, the little pocket of forest looked very ordinary in the daylight and though I’d felt a brief frisson, it was more a reaction to the sudden cold than anything else.

The snow had melted and though it was not raining, the air was fragrant and green as if freshly washed.

Except for the tree I’d mangled in the crash, it was a beautiful place. Still, compared to Allard’s home, it looked a bit drab. Even though I’d only spent a little time in the land of light, it felt like home. I would be glad to return there after I saw Hugh and made sure he was all right.

“Yes,” I said. “We should leave.” I was anxious to see Hugh again and reassure myself that he was in fact, doing fine.

“Paint a picture in your mind of where you would go,” Allard said, “and I will take you there.”

Epilogue

I concentrated on visualizing the Portland tattoo parlor where Hugh and I’d received our birthday ink five years ago.

I could see walls hung with mirrors and framed artwork by PDX artist John Donald Carlucci. I saw the colored Christmas lights draped over shelves of crystals and tiny animal skulls and scented candles and raku trays holding penjing, miniature gardens representing mountains covered by evergreens with tumbled rocks and even a little waterfall on one.

The living tableaus looked familiar and I realized why—they mirrored places I’d seen in the land of light.

Magic, I thought.

“I see the place,” Allard said.

We were already holding hands, so Allard squeezed mine and between one heartbeat and the next, we were standing in front of the tattoo place. It was raining and everyone around us was huddled into their hoodies and rain gear, apparently oblivious to our presence.

“Are we invisible?” I asked Allard.

“For a few seconds more,” he said. “Let us go in.”

I had been afraid that the shop would be closed for Christmas but I guess it was open in case anyone wanted a last-minute holiday tattoo.

The interior of the shop smelled of spiced oranges, which was a relief. I despise patchouli and the scent of white sage that always seems to permeate new agey spaces.

There was a small living Christmas tree in one corner of the entryway, decorated completely in gold and silver stars of various sizes.

Hugh was sitting at a little reception desk inside the door and when he saw me, his eyes lit up.

“Hilde,” he said happily and rose to sweep me into a hug.

He looked good. Healthy. Happy.

Clean, in all senses of the word.

“I dreamed about you yesterday,” he said. “It was wild.”

“About that,” I said, but he was already looking past me to Allard.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m Hilde’s brother.”

“I’m Allard.”

“I saw you in my dream too.” Hugh turned to me. “Let me get Vyx.”

He disappeared into the curtained-off alcove and returned a moment later with the tattoo artist.

Now that I’d been in the Verge, I could tell immediately that Vyx was fairy kind, something I hadn’t been able to tell when we’d first met.

Vyx looked different than I remembered and then I realized she had been identifying as a male five years ago.

“Hilde,” she said, and held out her arms for a hug. She was tiny, not much more than five feet tall, but she gave a good hug.

She pulled away to look at me earnestly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

Then she looked at Allard and said, “Allard.”

Hugh and I looked at each other. “You know her?” I said.

“I know Vyx,” Allard replied carefully, “but I had not met him in this female guise before.”

Vyx smiled and her features rearranged themselves subtly to become more masculine. She quirked her eyebrow at Allard, then allowed her face to melt back into her new female form as if to say, “Ta-da!” Hugh did not seem particularly surprised by this accomplishment and Allard was not fazed at all. He stepped forward and swept her into his embrace. He was nearly twice her size and looked like a bear hugging a doll. “It gladdens my heart to see you,” he said to her.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, “and I mourned you.”

She went to the door and locked it, then invited us back into her parlor for a talk. I told Hugh about my adventures and about Lyrus and his open invitation to visit any time.

Hugh looked uncertain. “I can’t even deal with dad right now,” he said. “Not sure if I’m ready for another father.”

Vyx wrapped her slender fingers around his fist and brought it to her lips to kiss it. “The land of light is beautiful,” she said. “I would like to see it again through your eyes.”

There was a new tattoo on Hugh’s arm, a portrait of Vyx framed in an intricate design that twined our family sigil with another fairy rune. I realized the fairy had both claimed him and put him under her protection with that image.

I approved.

“He is not ready to leave,” Vyx said to me, as if Hugh was not there, “but he is healing and he will be well soon.”

I took my brother’s hands and I addressed him in that secret language we’d used when we were children, the one I now knew was the language of our fae parents.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I am. And you?”

“Wildly happy,” I said.

“You know we can understand you,” Vyx said with a mischievous glance at Allard.

“Then don’t listen,” I said.

Allard gave her a wry look. “She can be a bit of a tyrant,” he said.

She smiled at him. “She loves her brother,” she said. “But so do I.”

It should have seemed very strange to me but somehow it didn’t. Once you got past the reality that you were part fairy, there really wasn’t too much else that can throw you off-center.

I turned down the offer of a free tattoo and promised I would visit soon, and Allard and I left.

It stopped raining just as we closed the door behind us.

I could feel myself smiling all over. “Thank you,” I said to Allard.

“For what?”

“For my happiness.”

“I love you,” he said.

I replied by kissing him, ignoring the passersby. “Am I the stone of your heart’s fruit?” I asked when we finally came up for air, teasing him just a little because I knew what he would say.

“Yes you are.” He thought for a moment and then added, “Or to put it more plainly, I love you with all of my heart and soul.”

Such pretty words. I wondered if he knew how I craved those words because he could see my dreams.

A vision of Parker floated through my mind. “I would like to meet this Parker,” Allard said.

No, you really wouldn’t, I thought.

“It seems to me that he is a man who needs to dream more,” he said darkly. “I could oblige him in that regard.”

It was tempting to let Allard plague Parker with nightmares. He’d certainly given me one or two bad nights, but I was too happy to have thoughts of revenge.

“Maybe some other time,” I said, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him.

“Shall we pay a visit to your father now?” he asked.

Now that was going to be some visit.

“In a minute,” I said because I’d spotted a Voodoo Doughnut across the street.

I took his hand and pulled him toward the curb. “Have you ever eaten a donut?” I asked him., wondering what his reaction would be if I ordered one of the shop’s signature treats, the cream-filled, chocolate frosted cock-n-balls option.

He leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, “Mine taste sweeter.”

It was going to take some getting used to this mind-reading thing.

About the Author

Internationally bestselling author Kat Parrish is a former reporter who prefers making things up. Her short fiction has been published in numerous anthologies, including the charity anthologies Once Upon a Fact and Death in the Drowned Lands She is the author of the “Shadow Palace” trilogy, the three-part La Bruja Roja series, and a collection of urban fantasy tales, L.A. Nocturne. She lives in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Follow her on Twitter @eyeofthekat, connect like her on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/eyeofthekat/). and subscribe to her newsletter: http://kattomic-energy.blogspot.com.tr/p/blog-page.html

A New-Fashioned Holiday

J. A. Cummings

About A New-Fashioned Holiday

A group of vampire friends come together to celebrate a modern holiday.

A New-Fashioned Holiday

The snow was falling heavily, and even though he’d only walked a few blocks from his brownstone to the pub, Daniel still had at least an inch of the fluffy white stuff on the shoulders of his black woolen coat. The sign in the door said that it was closed for a private party. Apparently tonight was not a hunting night. That was fine with him.

Daniel went inside. He was the last of his group to arrive. The other vampires were all sitting at the bar, drinking the warm blood that Sashabelle was serving from behind the bar. A quartet of humans were lying unconscious on tables, and repurposed blood plasma donation units were draining them dry. He looked with admiration at the bottles full of the Pure as he sat down with his friends.

“Hey,” Sashabelle greeted. Down the bar, Ivar saluted with a hand that was clutching a shot glass. The blood inside looked like it was watered down. Beside Ivar, Julius sat with doctored wine. As the oldest of them, he could get away with mixing more human beverages in with his blood. He was strong enough that he wouldn’t get sick. Daniel was the baby of the group, and if he tried to do anything but drink the blood straight, he’d be barfing for days.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Happy Hanukkah.”

She laughed. “Merry Christmas.”

Ivar drained his shot. “Glad Jul.”

Paulina poured a shot for Ivar out of her own glass, something that made Julius side-eye her. The three had been in a twitchy polyamorous group for the last fifty years, give or take, and Julius sometimes got jealous.

“Bonne Noel,” she said brightly. She leaned over and kissed Daniel on the cheek. Her lips were almost as cold as his skin.

Sitting in the middle of the group, Barney harrumphed into his tumbler. “Bah. Humbug.”

Daniel frowned. “What’s wrong with him?”

Paulina laughed lightly. “He’s grumpy.”

“Damn right I am.” Barney drained the last of his drink and put the tumbler down with a clack.

Daniel felt like he should have been shying away from the old vampire’s bad temper, but he had to ask, “Why?”

“It’s Christmas.”

That really didn’t answer the question. “Yeah… and?”

“And suddenly it’s all Tiny Tim and fucking Victorian carolers and Christmas puddings…” Barney grumbled, his voice gaining volume as his words picked up speed, falling from his mouth like aggrieved snowballs.

Sashabelle rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

Barney turned to Daniel and poked him in the chest with his index finger. “Do you know what Victorian England was? Poverty. Dirt. Tuberculosis. That’s what it was.”

Sashabelle tried to soothe him. “Barney….”

He wasn’t having it. Sometimes the ancient ones got crotchety. “But it’s all Santa and twee little children singing and supposedly being cute. And it's It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” and everybody being maudlin and nostalgic for homes and families they really hate.”

She tried again. “Barney…”

He wasn’t done. “It’s stupid and it’s dishonest and Christmas is a lie anyway.”

“Barnabas,” Sashabelle sighed. “Would you like more blood, maybe with some holiday spice in it?”

“Of course.” She served up the mulled blood, which smelled like a human covered with cinnamon sticks. Daniel kind of liked the smell. Barney drained his glass. “Fucking Christmas.”

It was a complete non sequitur, and he knew it, but Daniel chirped merrily anyway, “I’m Jewish.”

Paulina laughed. She was always in good spirits as long as the blood held out. “Good for you.”

Julius peered at him. “So?”

“So, I mean, I don’t get offended by that stuff because it really means nothing to me. Right?”

“I’m offended,” Barney grumbled.

“We know.” Paulina patted the older vampire on the arm. She grinned at Daniel. “Happy Hanukkah.”

They made quite a group. Julius was the oldest, followed by Barnabas, who was only a few years younger. The rumor was that Julius had Turned Barney, but neither of them would confirm or deny it. Ivar was next oldest, the Viking in the bunch, which meant he was wicked fun to be around. Sashabelle was Turned in Dodge City in 1904, and Paulina was from Paris in 1939. That left Daniel, who was the youngest. He’d been Turned in New York City ten years ago.

Daniel took his coat off and draped it over a chair. Sashabelle poured him a glass of Type O, then set the bottle under the victim’s plastic tube to refill. He sipped. “Oh, that’s nice. There’s a little twist of something…”

“Weed.”

“Ah! I thought there was a certain greenness to the blood.” Daniel nodded. “I approve.”

Sashabelle grinned, her long fangs gleaming. He thought she had beautiful fangs. “Nothing but the best for my favorite customers.” She kissed Barney on the forehead. “And you’re still one of my favorites, even if you do drive me crazy with your bellyaching.”

Barney grunted but said nothing.

Daniel told them, “The only thing that bothers me about being a vampire at Christmas now is that I can’t eat at Chinese restaurants on Christmas Eve anymore. Garlic, you know?”

The assembled vampires all nodded. Julius added, “Try being Italian.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “You’re Roman.”

“Rome is in Italy.”

“I’m from Sweden, but that doesn’t make me ABBA.”

Julius looked at the Nordic vampire. “You make no sense.”

Ivar grinned and drained another shot. “Nope. Not a bit.”

They laughed together, companionable and comfortable in their long acquaintance. Daniel was grateful that they’d all welcomed him into the fold. They were so old, and therefore so powerful, that they could have kicked him to curb quiet easily and nobody would have said boo about it. For some reason, they’d brought him in. He suspected that Julius was behind that, but he had no proof. He had no proof for anything.

Barney spoke up randomly. “Do you think we could drink eggnog?”

Paulina grimaced. “Why would you want to?”

He shrugged. “I was just… I mean, eggs are the beginning of life, right? So there’d be life force in them, like there is in blood?”

“Maybe, if you catch them right as they fall out of the chicken’s ass,” Sashabelle snorted. “But to make eggnog you have to add milk and sugar and things, and by the time you’re done, all the bloody lifey goodness will be long gone.” She refilled his glass with Type AB. “So, no. We can’t drink eggnog.”

Ivar mutters into his glass. “I remember celebrating Yule.”

Julius nods. “It was Saturnalia for me.”

“Why don’t we do that anymore?” Erik asks. “I mean, why do we have to be surrounded by this idiot plastic holiday the way they celebrate it nowadays? Why don’t we do it like we used to?”

The Roman vampire shrugged. “Too much trouble, and for a while, doing anything in the least bit pagan was an invitation to have neighbors burn you at the stake as a witch. No thanks.”

“Fucking witches,” Barney opined.

Paulina objected mildly, “Hey, now. I don’t pick on you for your religion, old man.” She put her arm around Barney and leaned her chin on his shoulder. “But… you know, we could get away with it now, up to a point.”

Daniel knew nothing about the ancient ways of his friends. “What would that entail?”

“Well, a lot of Christmas traditions are actually based on Saturnalia.”

“Yule,” Erik objected.

Sashabelle mixed a drink, O and A with a splash of sherry, for herself. “Both.”

“Whatever.” Julius hated to be interrupted when he was busy pontificating. “It had greenery that was brought indoors as decorations, gift-giving, feasting, dancing, singing... Just like Christmas.”

“You forgot the human sacrifices,” Erik pointed out.

Julius gestured to the four victims behind the bar. “Did I? Did I, really?”

Barney groused, “Fucking Saturnalia.”

Daniel had an idea. “I think I know what you need, Barn.”

His friend looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You need to celebrate Festivus.”

Sashabelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Another pop culture reference.”

“Is it?” Julius asked, clueless.

Daniel grinned. “Didn’t you ever watch Seinfeld?”

“What’s a Seinfeld?” Erik asked.

The Roman squinted at Daniel. “Sounds Jewish.”

“Well, sort of, if you mean that we Jews corner the market on comedy and the entertainment industry. You Italians are only good at crime.”

“Yes, crime, which brought us these lovely vessels.” He indicated the four humans who were slowly being bled to death. “You’re welcome.”

“Festivus was featured on one of the episodes, but people really do celebrate it now.”

Erik laughed into his fifth shot. “Humans are weird.”

“Says the guy who used to braid bones into his facial hair,” Julius sniffed.

“It was bone beads, and it was a look. You have to be Norse to understand it.”

“Well, I’ll thank the gods that I was spared.” He turned back to Daniel. “Continue. Do please bore us with your modern celebration.”

He was happy to continue. “There are four components to a Festivus celebration. There’s the Festivus pole, to begin with.” He went to the door and retrieved the coat rack. He put it down in the open floor space in front of the bar. “This’ll do. It’s a stand-in for all of those overly-decorated Christmas trees.”

Barney grunted. “Fucking trees.”

Sashabelle leaned her elbows on the counter. “So we have a Festivus pole. Now what?”

“Then we celebrate the Airing of Grievances.”

For the first time that evening, Barney laughed. “I win.”

“God, no kidding,” Sashabelle agreed. “You’re a walking grievance.”

Daniel nodded. “Good! Keep going.”

Paulina frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The Airing of Grievances is something we do so we don’t carry our bad feelings toward each other into the new year,” he explained. “We get all of these things off our chests, and then we start over with a clean slate.”

“Ah, I see.” Julius crossed his arms and turned around in his stool. “So we can spend the rest of the year gathering more grievances, which we air at the next Festivus. Am I correct?”

“You are.” Daniel pulled a chair over from one of the empty tables. “So… Age before beauty. Julius, what grievances do you have?”

Barney tapped his glass. “Fill me up. This is going to take a while.”

“I don’t have many grievances,” the Roman began. “Other than Erik stealing Paulina’s attention and monopolizing her from time to time.”

“You can’t steal what’s freely given,” his girlfriend retorted. “And I give you attention, too.”

“Not as much.”

“You jealous fuck,” Erik laughed. “It just galls your Roman pride that you’re not the best man in the house, is that it?”

Julius rose. “If I’m not the best man, then who is?”

Barney grinned, and that was usually a precursor to chaos. “Paulina.”

“I’m not a man!”

Julius glared. “Hey!”

“Well, she’s toughest…” Erik shrugged. “I don’t disagree.”

He was rewarded with a kiss, and Julius slapped his hand on the counter. The wood creaked.

“Careful!” Sashabelle scolded. “You’re going to break my bar again.”

“You can get a new one.”

“You can get a new hand.”

Daniel laughed. “This is perfect. We’re all letting our grievances out.”

“Not all of us,” Sashabelle said. “What about you, Danny? Don’t you have any complaints?”

“Honestly? No. I love my life. I love everybody in it. I enjoy drinking blood and never catching a cold and being stronger than every steroid jockey at the gym. I like having ridiculous stamina…”

Sashabelle waggled her eyebrows. “I like that about you, too.”

Barney turned and looked at him. “Seriously? Nothing pisses you off?”

“Nothing that matters.” He shrugged. “We’re going to live forever. Why let something like seasonal decorations or taxes or other things that are just temporary get you down?”

They looked at one another, and Erik said, “The kid has a point.”

Daniel nodded. “And look around here. We have people from all walks of life, all ages, all faiths. And yet we’re good friends. We’ve been coming together every night for ten years, and every night we get closer. There’s nobody here I wouldn’t die for, and I believe that you’d all do anything you could for me.”

“As long as it served my purposes,” Julus sniffed. The corner of his mouth turned up and his dark eyes twinkled. “Kidding.”

“Oh, God,” Barney complained. “Are we going to have to hug or something?”

Sashabelle leaned over the counter and hugged him. He pretended to protest, but he ended up hugging her back. She kissed him on the cheek.

“I have to admit, when I was first Turned, I wasn’t thrilled,” Paulina confessed. “But since meeting all of you… I’m glad it happened. I’m glad it happened for all of us. None of us but Daniel would be alive, and we’d have missed out on some really good times.”

“Like when we broke into Coney Island and ran the rides until the cops came?” Erik said.

“And when we ate all the people in that park in Jersey?” Sashabelle asked. She sighed. “Good times.”

“The best,” Daniel agreed. “We’ve had the best of times.”

He picked up his glass and saluted his friends.

“Happy Festivus, Happy Hanukkah, Glad Yule and Happy Saturnalia.”

Barney raised his glass and sheepishly added, “And Merry Christmas.”

Sashabelle held up her glass, as did everyone else. She looked around at her friends and smiled, but Daniel could see a tear in her eyes. “To us,” she said.

They clinked their glasses together.

“To us!”

When they’d finished drinking everything the humans behind the bar could give, Julius said, “When we celebrated Saturnalia, we would have bonfires.”

“We had bonfires for Yule,” Erik nodded.

“I say we have another fire.”

Sashabelle glared at him. “Don’t you dare burn my bar down. Not again.”

“No, no. But we have empties to dispose of, and in honor of this year, I think we need a dumpster fire.”

The vampires laughed. “It would be fitting,” Paulina agreed. “Human politics just make me want to go on a killing spree.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” Erik suggested.

“Deal.”

“Not my dumpster,” Sashabelle said, “but… good plan otherwise.”

“Where should we go?” Julius asked.

They looked at one another, then said in unison, “Jersey!”

“Then let’s pack up the bodies and go find a dumpster.” The Roman nodded to Daniel. “You had a good idea with this Festivus thing.”

He shrugged. “I blame Seinfeld.”

“Blame whoever you want, but you should learn to take a compliment.”

Sashabelle leaped over the counter and landed in front of him. She sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck so she could kiss him deeply. He returned the kiss with gusto.

“I’ll take you. Is that all right?” he asked when they had parted.

“You’d better,” Barney said. “Can’t have her roaming around on her own.”

“What about you, Barn?” Paulina asked. “Don’t you want to hook up with anyone? Have a little private celebration?”

He went and picked up one of the dead humans. “And miss a perfectly good dumpster fire? Not on your life.” He kicked the door open and stepped out into the street. Bat wings extended from his shoulders, and he grinned back at them. “Last one to Jersey is a rotten egg.”

Laughing, some of them carting their victims, they followed him into the night.

The End

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review!

About the Author

J. A. Cummings was born in Flint, Michigan and was raised in a nearby town called Clio. Appropriately enough for someone growing up in a place named for the Muse of history, she developed a passion for reading and the past that continues to this day. Her love of poetry and storytelling quickly followed.

Her life has been one of numerous false starts, unexpected endings and fascinating side trips that lasted far too long. All of that chaos has informed her writing and improved her understanding of what it means to be human, both the sorrow and the glory.

She still resides in Michigan and also writes as Tiegan Clyne.

Want to hang out with the author, win prizes, see the cool covers first, and support J.A.’s books on social media? Join Cummings' Crickets, J.A.’s street team on Facebook!

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Cryptomorphs Series

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Krampusnaughty

Edeline Wrigh

Krampusnaughty

Lainie Wiles was bad at her job.

Lainie Wiles was bad at her job, and it was entirely because she didn't give two fucks about her job. Sure, it paid the bills, but her fancy "Administrative Assistant" title aside, her job really just boiled down to receiving calls, filing papers, and making coffee. And, gosh, she hadn't been the most popular girl in high school, but she'd been a cheerleader and dated the quarterback until he went off to a big college on a sports scholarship where he'd cheated on her. If you'd asked her at her graduation a decade ago where she thought she was going to be at 28, it definitely wouldn't have been here.

She sighed. The dentists were gone for the day, and they left her to guard the phones for any last-minute calls that came in before the office closed for the holidays. Christmas was almost here, and she had no plans that didn't involve sitcom reruns and a large box of wine. There were worse ways to spend the break, she supposed, like with her dad and his new girlfriend—a woman just five years older than Lainie.

Then again, there were better ones.

She spun in her chair. At least they'd sprung for the one she wanted, though she'd made it a point to extol its virtues in terms of health and productivity rather than amusement.

She hadn't always been bad at her job; in fact, she'd been good at it long enough to build a rapport with her boss and coworkers. If they'd noticed her slacking off recently, they hadn't said anything.

If they'd noticed her sexting on the clock, they hadn't said anything about that, either.

She checked her phone. Lucas, the guy she'd most recently been... "seeing" would be a liberal word for it... had not responded to the nude she'd sent him 37 minutes ago. He'd left her on read, though. Ouch.

She sighed, glancing over at the stack of papers she was supposed to file. She didn't feel like it, and there wasn't anyone to remind her. Besides, it'd be a week before she'd have to handle the consequences, if ever. That was future Lainie's problem, not hers. So instead, she opened Tinder, swiping lazily for about fifteen minutes before saying "Fuck it," grabbing her purse, and leaving early.

----

Lucas never responded to her. It'd been a few hours now, and a night she had been hoping to spend underneath him had turned into one wearing PJs on the couch and opening that box of wine early. It was disappointing, but that was how it went with most men nowadays, she found.

One of her friends had suggested this mindset was probably why she'd had such bad luck with guys. She couldn't disagree, but a lot of good it did her to shift it when it didn't seem like a guy worth a damn would give her the time of day, anyway.

She sighed, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. Might as well start that butt imprint on the couch early, she thought, flipping through her options. Reruns? A Christmas movie? This new series her friends keep trying to get her to watch?

She had finally decided on a Christmas Hallmark-style movie and settled in with her wine and her popcorn when the power went out.

"You have GOT to me kidding me," she nearly screamed. Then again, she was having the kind of day where she considered just continuing to drink her wine and eat her popcorn in the dark rather than getting up to investigate the cause of the power outage. She wasn't sure she wanted to watch beautiful fictional people get their happy endings when she wouldn't get hers anytime soon—in any sense of the phrase.

But the darkness let her think too much, so she had to at least light a candle or something. She fumbled around on the table, pushing magazines and random papers onto the ground to set down her food and beverage, then swung her around to stand.

"Hello," a voice said, low and deep. She jumped, the blankets she was huddled in hitting the table, and a clinking sound and splash told her she'd knocked over her wine. Just fucking great.

"Who's there?" She tried to sound confident and assertive as she spoke, but even she picked up on the shaking in her voice. This was the beginning of a horror movie, was it not? Except usually in a horror movie, the first one to die had others around to hear their screams. Maybe she would be the ghost giving warnings to the people who owned her house later instead of being the protagonist herself. That would figure.

A clanking and jangling noise reverberated through the room. It sounded to her like metal chains in movies, and she felt her heart race at the sound. Yup, definitely about to become a ghost.

"I've heard you've been a very naughty girl this year," he responded. His voice was velvety, with a cadence that felt like dark chocolate to her ears, and she found herself wanting to hear more of it.

Was it fucked up? Yeah, probably. Then again, she kinda was, at least beneath the once-cheerleader, current-peppy-assistant veneer she maintained with more sensible adults. And if his words gave her any clue, that was probably a major part of why she was about to become a ghost.

Maybe the guy would fuck her first if she asked nicely, though.

"Look, if you're going to kill me, just get it over with," she said, dropping her arms to her sides. She still couldn't see him, but maybe he could see her, and she figured it was worth a shot to convince him not to draw out her demise.

A deep, guttural sound rumbled through the room, shaking her body. Then the lights turned on.

She blinked. The whole thing felt almost like magic. She'd always believed in the supernatural, and if you'd asked her before today, she would have told you she was sure she'd seen a few ghosts over the years. But now, faced with a voice from a person she couldn't see and the lights flickering? Well, she was entirely certain-

"I'm not invisible," the man said, and she thought she could hear his eyes roll with the sentiment. "I'm behind you."

Oh. She felt like a dumb ass... until she turned around.

Then? She screamed.

"What the FUCK-"

"Quiet!" he interrupted her. "You don't want your next-door neighbor to overhear, do you?"

She thought about Mrs. Rushford, the old woman who always gave her a hand knit scarf before the first snow hit and who covered almost her entire balcony with plants during the warmer months, swallowed, and bit her tongue.

He nodded. "That's what I thought."

She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, an anti-anxiety trick an overeager counselor had given her in her early 20s. And stared.

The guy was fucking huge. She figured the top of his head probably came out to 6'5", but then he had massive horns that curled on either side of it, probably bringing him up to a full seven feet tall. His torso was broad, muscular, with defined muscles under a thin layer of hair. A glance downward revealed his legs to be.... that of an animal, though what kind she couldn't tell. Not now. Not with how taken aback she was by the entire encounter.

His face, though, was handsome, and he raised his eyebrows as he held one very-human finger over his lips.

She opened and shut her mouth several times, trying to find the words she needed to ask the questions she had. But she couldn't find them when looking into his eyes. She wondered if there was a supernatural reason for that, or if it was merely a result of her own heightened emotions.

Fear, that was. Or maybe something other than fear? Maybe something additional? She wasn't sure.

She pulled her gaze away from his, her eyes falling to his other hand. The chains she'd heard were looped around his shoulder and fell across the opposite hip, but his hand held something like a stick, or perhaps a riding crop. She gulped.

"Wha-who are you?"

He tilted his head, then opened his arms wide in something like a bow as he introduced himself. "Why, I'm Krampus," he said. "And if I'm not mistaken, you're Lainie Wiles, and you've been a very naughty girl this year."

She made the mistake of making eye contact with him as he said this, and this time his expression made his meaning clear: there was a definite innuendo in his words. She felt a blush crawling up her cheeks and did her best to ignore it, but she was pretty sure she caught him smirk at her in response.

"I don't... I don't believe we've met," she said, trying to diffuse the tension she felt creep up between them.

He laughed, an expression that seemed filled with absolute mirth rather than any kind of malice, and she found herself becoming more comfortable with him, much to the dismay of the sensible part of her. "We haven't," he said, "though I'm somewhat hurt you haven't heard of me. Gotta get my reputation out there more, it seems. Used to be that everyone learned about Krampus as a child. Or, at least everyone east of the Atlantic."

"I don't follow."

He shrugged, then waved a hand dismissively. "My predecessor lived and worked in Europe. He was... a little scarier and a lot meaner and he went after naughty children, not sexy and naughty women."

Lainie thought back through stories she'd been told as a child. Nope, nothing. But hadn't there been-

"Didn't they make a movie about you?" she blurted out.

He shook his head. "Nope. That would have been about my predecessor. Like I said, I'm still building my reputation here in the states. Plus, the whole thing with a different, er, audience."

"I don't really understand."

He moved toward her faster than she would have thought possible given his stature. He smelled like brimstone and warmth. Her breath caught in her throat, not entirely from fear. She put up her hands reflexively to protect herself, and he stopped when he hit them such that his defined abs rested against her fingertips.

Something told her that was intentional.

One of his fingers ran through her hair and down the side of her neck, warm and rough against her skin. It traced her collarbone, and she exhaled with the slightest—the very slightest—moan before she realized what she was doing and reeled it in. His abs, moving with his breaths, pulsed as if with silent laughter, but he didn't say anything about it, not outright. Instead, the finger traced its way back up to her chin, another one joining it to tilt her head back and make her look into his eyes.

"I'm here to punish you," he told her.

"So you're going to kill me?" she asked. Her voice felt hollow even to her.

His eyes were full of pity. "Of course not. You just seem like the type who might.... well, like the type who might want some holiday kink. But perhaps I misjudged?"

Her mouth fell open. "You came here to fuck me?"

He burst into laughter one again, hoisting her into his arms as he did so. His hands were huge on her ass, his cock firm against her torso, and she held on more tightly than she meant to. She told herself it was so that she didn't fall. It wasn’t.

Her whole body rested against his chest, and his face was buried in her neck. He shifted her ever so slightly, moving her form so that his lips had better access to her ear. "I came here to punish you, but only if you want me to, and I won't say no to using my cock to do so."

He pulled her body into him harder for emphasis, and that action alone was enough to drown out all other thoughts.

"Okay," she said, "so do it."

"Do what?"

"Punish me."

He chuckled, setting her down and somehow taking off the top of her pajamas in one swift motion. Her slippers had fallen at some point, she realized—she'd been distracted, to say the least—and he kicked them aside. He turned her around, pressing her into the wall such that her face hit the cold of the smooth paint, then pulled her pajama bottoms down roughly, scratching her hips and the outside of her thighs as he did so. He pulled at one of her legs, and then the other to tell her she was to step out of them, placing her feet for her so they were just over shoulder width apart.

"You are to do as I say and take your punishment without complaint," he told her, pacing behind her. "You are to refer to me as Sir during the time we are together. Any deviations and I promise you'll regret it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Lainie said.

"Good," Krampus replied, brushing the stick along her sides in a way that made her melt into it.

She took a deep breath in and relaxed, her tension and desire growing as it was pulled back from her body. Then, he struck. She yelped as it hit her sides, then her ass, a sharp pain that made her ever more aware of her body exposed to this stranger—this monster—she would not have believed existed even an hour ago.

He hit her again, then again. At first it merely hurt; as a young adult, she'd been around her share of BDSM scenes, but her body had not known what it was like to be on the end of a switch for years now. Soon, however, her skin warmed up and the pain melted into pleasure until it was one and the same and there was nothing she could do but pant and moan and obey him.

He was right, after all: she'd been deliberately bad this year. Or, well, "bad." Certainly not good. But she'd prioritized pleasure over productivity, her momentary desires over her long-term dreams, not because she didn't believe in her potential but because she didn't know how to live uninhibitedly otherwise. That had been something the BDSM community had given her, all those years ago: a confidence in asking for what she wanted that, somewhere along the way, she'd lost.

So a sexy beast here to deliver it to her? Well, it was pretty much a Christmas miracle.

This all passed through her mind in a matter of seconds, in pieces and memories between thwacks. He hit her again, and she whimpered, feeling desire build between her legs and wetness that coated the inside of her thighs. He took her sound as an invitation, hitting her harder and faster until she writhed against the wall, until tears fell from her eyes from something other than pain.

Relief? Maybe.

"Stop moving or I might hit something I'm not aiming for," Krampus ordered.

She moved without thinking when he hit her again.

He sighed, his breath on her neck. She shivered; she hadn't realized he was that close. One large hand grasped the back of her neck, pulling her away from the wall and pushing her toward her bedroom. She heard the clanking now and wondered if he'd set the chains down or if she'd really been that lost in the actions to notice the loudness.

They made it to her bed, and he pressed her over the end of it, shoving her face into the comforter she hadn't spread evenly across the mattress. The jangling intensified; she peeked from her place on the bed to watch him pull the chains off a clasp he'd been using to secure them. He looped it around her headboard, tightening it, then clasping cold metal bonds around her wrists and a softer, leather one around her neck.

"Like I said," he reiterated, "don't move."

With that, he hit her again, harder and harder until the switch bit into her ass and she screamed.

"You complain an awful lot for someone who wanted me to punish her," he commented coolly. "Change your mind?"

"No, Sir," she nearly screamed into her bedding.

He laughed, giving one final hit. This time, it made a loud cracking noise on impact, but she didn't dare turn to look at what had happened.

"Seems you broke my stick," he said. "Whatever will we do now?"

She was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question and he had something else in mind. She wasn't certain. She was certain he wouldn't be especially happy about her answering it without a direct order, so she bit her tongue and focused on trying to catch her breath instead.

"Oh, I know!" Krampus almost shouted behind her, and her breath caught in her throat again as the warmth of his lips hit her cunt.

Punish her? Fuck, she couldn't convince most of the men she slept with to put their mouths anywhere near her crotch. And she'd definitely asked.

He moved against her folds slowly at first, as if warming her up to the idea of him between her legs. Then, the softness of his tongue slipped into her, gently yet firmly, rolling in circles in ways no human man she'd ever been with had managed. It went deeper within her, and then deeper still. She thought she remembered images shown to her by one of her friends in school, images of a long red tongue from the body of a beast, and maybe she was imagining it, but did she care?

No, she didn't, not now, not when Krampus had made himself manifest in her living room and brought her to bed and had her at the mercy of that tongue. It pulsed within her now, wriggling around her folds and against her clit in a way that brought her increasingly close to coming, building an orgasm he would not give her. It seemed he knew he was taking her to the edge only to hold her back at the last moment. She tried to pulse her body back, but the chains held her, metal cuffs digging into her wrists when she tried too hard to move. She let out an exasperated moan, but didn't dare complain, not verbally.

She knew better.

But her exasperated moan was enough to make Krampus pull away, leaving her wet cunt open to the air. There was a slight draft from her apartment window, and it made her tingle in a way that wasn't altogether unpleasant.

Was he finished? She didn't want him to be, but maybe that was ultimately the punishment. Maybe he would leave her like this until the gravity of what she'd done—not that he had at any point actually told her what she'd done—really hit her.

She was considering how difficult it would be to break out of the chains in the event he left her here when he entered her, his massive cock filling her in one smooth motion that made her cry out. Now, she reflexively tried to move away; again, it was initially almost painful, and her body was not prepared, wet or not. The chains held her at first, followed by his massive hands, one wrapped around her shoulder and the other around one hip and the small of her back.

The beast growled behind her, pressing his length into her until he bottomed out, again and again, his growls turning to roaring moans. She screamed under him, pain turning to pleasure, a crescendo of sensation that eventually erupted into orgasm. He moved faster as she came around him, eventually finding his own release, his nails biting into her skin and drawing blood as he did so.

He pulled himself out, licking at the cuts on her body. "To soothe the pain," he said by way of explanation, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed him.

She wasn't entirely sure of anything now, really, and she laid on the bed in deflated pleasure as he moved around her, unlocking the clasps on her wrists and taking his chains off the bed.

Had he even taken any clothing off? It didn't seem like it, but perhaps she had missed it. Everything was vague.

He cleaned her up with a towel he'd found in the bathroom, then scooped her up to tuck her into bed. She noticed he'd grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and a bottle of Tylenol ahead of time and put them on her bedside table. She wasn't sure whether to consider that thoughtful or pretentious. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

"Sleep well," he said as he left.

"Where are you going?"

He tilted his head. "I have some errands to run. But don't worry. I'll be back."

She drew the blankets up around her face, narrowing her eyes. "You'll be back?" she asked.

He smiled. "Of course I will. Unless you’re suddenly excited about your job?"

She shook her head, yawning. Fuck, she hurt. "No, of course not."

"Great," he said. "So you can be my next project."

"I don't understand."

"You're not all that naughty," he said, "what you just let me do to you notwithstanding. You just need to learn to take your power back. And I've decided to help you do that." He shrugged, then smiled even more widely. "Sleep well. You're gonna need it. Happy Krampusnacht."

The End

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Edeline Wrigh is an eccentric storyteller with a penchant for swearing, drinking too much caffeine, and spending more time with cats than people. She writes fantasy, romance, and love stories without happy endings from her house in the Midwest. When she's not putting words on paper, she's busy up leveling her martial arts game or taking in stories in any way she can.

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Betwixt Realms Series (Lesbian Harem Paranormal Romance)

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A Rueful Equinox

Stacey Jaine McIntosh

About A Rueful Equinox

Violet Grayson is set to marry Fox Donovan on the Winter Solstice. But this isn’t an ordinary wedding. For the pair come from vastly different worlds. Violet is a wolf shifter and Fox a faerie prince. Will they find their happily ever after?

A Rueful Equinox

Pale stone buildings of every size and shape jutted out against all the white. A massive city greeted me, and I couldn’t help but turn in circles, completely in awe of my surroundings. It almost felt as if I'd stepped back in time to Victorian London. Fireflies lit up the tree-lined streets, which added to the etherealness.

Snow fell in soft flurries, blanketed the ground before me in a thick carpet of white that despite the early evening gloom the sun could still be seen rapidly sinking below the horizon to the east.

As I approached, the gates, I spied two guards in midnight blue livery, standing one on either side.

“Can I help you?” one guard asked. It was common knowledge that faeries and wolf shifters had a mutual dislike of one another but a lot of time and effort had gone into trying to repair the relationship between the two races over the years. I had hoped things wouldn't have been so strained still but it appeared they were.

“My name is Violet Grayson, I'm here—”

One guard nodded, cutting me off abruptly. “Prince Alexander told us you'd be coming.”

Prince Alexander. I scoffed. Fox hated it when the fey called him that.

“So, will you let me pass?” I asked.

Both guards looked me up and down, silently judging me, before stepping aside and allowing me to enter the Winter Palace.

It had grown colder in the time I’d been standing still. My chills became uncontrollable shivers. No matter how I tried, I couldn't keep my teeth from chattering, and the strain was setting in. My jaw ached. My fingers ached when I could feel them. I felt as much as heard the sound of my teeth colliding in my skull. They were ice cubes, and my head was the glass violently shaking them around. I was sure I was only moments away from shattering.

I could barely manage another step, I was that cold, and yet somehow, I did. Twenty in all, I'd counted.

The doors were easily seven feet high and appeared as if carved from quartz.

They were pulled open from the inside, and a gust of frigid air hit my face, stinging my cheeks.

I blinked back the tears that the cold had wrought, clearing my vision.

Once inside it felt as if I had slipped into a faerie wonderland. Yule decorations hung from the grand staircase and a fire was lit in the hearth.

Had I been back in Knox, I would have been enjoying eggnog right about now. Instead, I’d be subjected to mulled wine or mead. Neither of which I cared for overly much. I missed the familiarity of Christmas rituals from years past. Being in Arcadia during the Winter Solstice for my pending wedding seemed all too surreal.

My wolf was on edge and a small part of me wanted to run on back home to all the creature comforts that I was used to. But I forced myself to stay.

And with good reason, because at that moment Fox came meandering down the staircase.

“Fox!” I shouted. The relief at seeing a familiar face was instant.

“Ready for tonight?” he asked, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Zooey stated. She wore a gown of midnight blue and silver heels and came sweeping down the staircase behind Fox.

“Mom!” Fox groaned.

“Violet,” she greeted with a smile. “I’ll show you to your suite.”

And just like that she took over. Ordering palace staff around to fetch this or that. All of them ready to address her every need as well as mine.

At just before midnight, I made my way down the staircase for the final time that day, hair coiffed and dressed in a white crystalline dress I was almost certain was made from spiders’ silk.

Outside in a clearing, Fox stood. In front of him, stood Merlin, wearing a fur trimmed jacket to protect him from the elements.

The druid, I’d been told was responsible for all nuptials in Arcadia.

As I approached a shy smile stole over my face and nerves set in.

“Love is the energy that binds our universe together, makes us whole, and that which is flesh and blood. While we may all be young in consciousness, and our lives fleeting, the matter of which we are made is as old as the universe itself. This brief but beautiful organization of matter into individuals and the intertwining of our lives have been celebrated for much of history. And so today, we are gathered here to witness the formal declaration of love and commitment between Fox and Violet,” he said gazing at each of us. “Fox and Violet, do you come into this marriage of your own free will, and with full conscious intent?”

“We do.”

“With this marriage, you bring your two lives together as one, and as you proceed into your future, happy and difficult times will come as surely as the sun rises and sets, as surely as the seasons cycle and change. As partners, you promise to weather the changes and difficult times, take solace and support in one another, and share equally your burdens and your joys. With the blessing of these witnesses here today, and those who could not be in attendance, you will make your declarations of love and commitment. Fox and Violet, please join your hands.”

We did as Merlin asked, and he laid the cord across our hands before continuing.

“These cords will now be tied around your hands as a physical representation of the decision you make to bind together your lives. As I make each knot, each party member will approach and place the elemental symbols of your love upon the altar.”

Ever approached the altar and placed a potted plant on the altar. “Like Earth, let your trust in one another be steadfast, a rich ground where love can grow stronger and flourish.”

Merlin made the first knot.

“We will,” Fox and I said together.

A male faerie I didn’t recognise approached the altar and placed the incense on the altar. “Like Air, take joy in your flights of fancy, and feed one another's interests, curiosities, and intellect.”

Merlin made the second knot.

“We will.”

Leo approached the altar and placed the candle on the altar. “Like Fire, let love and compassion for each other burn brightly, lighting your way forward and warming your spirits.”

Merlin made the third knot.

“We will.”

Rue approached the altar and placed the goblet on the altar. “Like Water, be gentle enough to follow the natural paths of the earth and strong enough to rise up and reshape the world together.”

Merlin made the fourth knot.

And together we said one final, “We will.”

Merlin said. “These cords and the knots formed around your hands represent the commitments you make here today. They are strong enough to hold you together through times of struggle, yet flexible enough to allow for individuality and personal growth. Fox and Violet, do you promise to treat each other with compassion, to actively listen, and communicate without judgment? If so, please say, ‘We do’,”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to honour and respect one another in your mutual humanity, accepting each other fully in your flaws and strengths? If so, please say, ‘We do’.”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to support each other through good times and bad and grow together in your love and life experiences? If so, please say, ‘We do.’”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to care for one another, in sickness and in health, physically and emotionally? If so, please say, ‘We do.’”

“We do.”

“You may now release your hands and place the cord on the altar. Like your lives and your love, the cord remains knotted in a circle, a continuous, infinite loop.”

Fox and I placed the cord on the altar and returned to our previous position as Merlin picked up the rings from the altar. “As a reminder of that infinity, and to seal the promises you have made to each other here today, you will exchange rings and mark the transition from engagement to marriage. The precious metal in these rings came from the ground as a rough ore and was heated and purified, shaped and polished. Something beautiful was made from raw elements. Love is like that. It comes from humble beginnings, made by imperfect beings.”

Merlin handed one of the rings to me. “Repeat after me: With this ring, I seal my love and my promises to you, Fox.”

“With this ring, I seal my love and my promises to you, Fox,” I repeated as I slid the ring onto his finger.

Merlin handed the ring of the Fox who said. “With this ring, I seal my love and my promises to you, Violet.”

“I now pronounce you partners in life. Fox, you may kiss your bride.”

As Fox kissed me, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks and slowly dissipate. After it was over and he pulled away, we turned towards our witnesses still holding hands.

“I present to you all, Fox and Violet Donovan. May you two live long and happy lives together,” Merlin said, his duty having drawn to a close.

“Let’s get out of here,” Fox suggested, while I nodded. Thankful at the prospect of getting out of the cold.

The winter solstice had—despite the cold—fast become my favourite faerie holiday.

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About the Author

Bestselling author Stacey Jaine McIntosh was born in Perth, Western Australia where she still resides with her husband and their four children.

Although her first love has always been writing, she once toyed with being a Cartographer and subsequently holds a Diploma in Spatial Information Services.

Since 2011 she has had over one hundred short stories and twenty-two poems published.

Stacey is also the author of Solstice, Morrighan, Lost, Le Fay & Pendragon and she is currently working on several other projects simultaneously.

When not with her family or writing she enjoys reading, photography, genealogy, history, Arthurian myths and witchcraft.

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The Camelot Series

Stacey Jaine McIntosh writing as Anastasia Avarice

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Blood & Prophecy

A Nine Realms Saga Story

Zoey Xolton

About Blood & Prophecy

It is the eve of the Winter Solstice and the Shadow Court of the Dökkálfar celebrate. But what should be just another dark night of revelry soon becomes much more when princess Zelda is pulled into a vision that will change the realm of Álfheim, forever.

Blood & Prophecy

Lush, seductive music filled the Dark Court as the Dökkálfar cavorted, dancing, feasting, and drinking to celebrate the Winter Solstice. Banquet tables ran the length of the grand throne room, almost groaning under the weight of the sumptuous foods on offer. The fruits of Álfheim—the likes of which no mortal had ever seen—overflowed tiered crystal platters. Deep purple globes hung in artful bunches, their glossy skins reflecting the shifting candlelight, while clusters of scarlet berries, so ripe as to burst in the mouth, decorated honey-laced pastries, their juices dribbling over clouds of snow-white cream like blood.

Silver trays were piled high with tender, rare roasted meats and laden with aromatic vegetables. Fountains of ice skilfully carved into the perfect likeness of swans, stags, and other woodland creatures flowed with chilled Sanguira—the blood wine. No expense of coin or labour had been spared. The Winter Solstice was the most sacred of celebrations to the Dark elves, and a testament to the power of their king and queen.

From their elaborate and imposing thrones of obsidian Stefan and Mirsana watched over their subjects with impassive, unreadable expressions. They appeared as if living statues, divine and flawless in their timeless, immortal beauty. With hair and eyes as black as night, their children—now grown—were their mirror image…except for Zelda, the king and queen’s only daughter. While her elder brother Hagan, and younger brother Kearn were as dark in their splendour as their parents, she alone was unique.

With silver eyes and hair as pure and brilliant as starlight, she was a rare and spectacular anomaly, a seer. Born with the gift of prophecy, she was also a talented völva, an elven witch. Beautiful, ethereal, and distant, Zelda forever walked with one foot in Álfheim, and one somewhere else among the nine realms. Her eyes, which reflected all the colours of the rainbow—like precious moonstone—saw beyond the material, and into the past and future. She saw the fates of gods, elves, and men, alike. Her gift was a great boon to the Dökkálfar, and her curse.

Despite her unfathomable wisdom and long elven years, she was young by their measure of time. At just a thousand years of age, she looked as a maiden, soft and youthful, not yet matured into the striking lines of refined womanhood. In silence she sat at her mother’s side, her attention focused beyond the dance floor, and upon the striking figure of her elder brother as he crossed directly to the dais. The dancers parted like water before him as he strode, re-joining the synchronised dance as he passed.

“Mother, Father, Sister,” he said curtly.

“Good evening, Hagan,” answered Mirsana. “How gracious of you to finally join the festivities.”

Hagan’s lips curled up into the sardonic smirk for which he was well known. “I do try,” he said.

“Son,” said Stefan giving his son an imperceptible wink.

“I saw that, Stefan,” quipped Mirsana, eyebrow raised as she sipped from her glittering goblet.

The king chuckled, and for a brief moment a genuine smile reached the prince’s eyes. His parents were a formidable match, and were still clearly and darkly in love, despite the passage of some ten thousand years together. It gave his heart hope that he too would one day find his perfect Dökkálfar partner with whom he could share eternity.

With a gentle smile, one reserved just for his sister, he knelt down before her, and taking her delicate hand, placed a kiss upon it. Zelda gasped, and her eyes glowed white, her irises no longer visible, lost to the blank stare of a vision.

“Hagan,” she whispered, and in an instant, she pulled him into the vortex of images assaulting her mind.

Hagan reeled internally as he saw memories and moments play out in his mind of a young, golden haired girl, just become a woman. Her resemblance to the Kasimira, the queen of the Ljósálfar—the Light elves—was unmistakable. He witnessed her arrival in Álfheim. She was to be debuted before the Bright Court this very evening. Her deep sapphire blue eyes spoke to his heart, and he found himself flooded with yearning.

She is a hybrid, his sister whispered into his mind. Part mortal, part Ljósálfar, and soon to be legitimised princess of the Bright Court. She is your match, brother.

Hagan’s heart raced. There was no denying the pull of destiny. He felt it in his bones. His sister spoke the truth, and yet, it was unheard of—unspeakable. The union of a Dark and Light elf…it was forbidden. As unspoken as it was ancient, no one defied the order of the gods. The Courts were forever at war, forever in opposition. It was the way of their realm since the dawning of their creation. But this young Halfling, Elora, was his mate, and future queen as surely as he was the heir to the Shadow Court.

You haven’t much time, brother. You know what you must do. Go, now, Zelda beseeched him. She will bear you a son, the first child born of both Courts in history. Together you will birth a new Court, one that will rule over Light and Dark—the Blood Court.

As abruptly as he had been pulled into the vision he was released.

“Zelda, Hagan, what did you see? Is all well?” asked the queen.

“All is well, Mother,” he responded, rising to his feet, and releasing his sister’s hand. “But I must go.” With a curt nod he took his leave of his family and the Winter Solstice celebrations. Tonight, he would meet his mate. And though they celebrated the dark, and the cold, the slumber, and the death of all things with the Winter Solstice, there would be life. Destiny had spoken and his queen—though unaware—awaited him.

Zelda’s prophecy would come to fruition. And all nine realms be damned, it will be sealed in blood. Once beyond the ball room Hagan shifted into his shadow cat form and bounded into the night, and towards the home of the Ljósálfar.

I’m coming, my love.

The End.

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can read more tales from Zoey’s The Nine Realms Saga in Dangerous Words Publishing’s upcoming collections. In the meantime, if you love dark fantasy, fairy tales, and paranormal romance then please consider picking up your copy of Zoey’s debut short story collection Darkly Ever After!

About the Author

Zoey Xolton is an Australian Speculative Fiction Author. She likes to daydream, and write stories about the beautiful and improbable, the dark and fantastical, as well as the adventurous and utterly romantic! Whether it’s fairy tales, fantasy, horror, paranormal romance, urban fantasy, or science-fiction…she dabbles in it.

She has featured in over 100 anthologies to date, and is currently working on progressively longer stories. She prays you enjoy, and fall in love with the deliciously tempting tales, and the characters that she bring into the world. Writing is her guilty pleasure…perhaps reading it will become one of yours?

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Snow White: As White As Snow

Rose Red & Snow White

S. K. Gregory

A Battle To The Death

Nine years ago, two friends, representing good and evil, met in battle. As white as snow, as red as blood. One must die or all will fall.

Ruby hesitated when it came to stabbing her best friend. After all, she was the bad seed, the evil one, shouldn’t she be the one to die?

Lily didn’t hesitate. She stabbed Ruby and left her for dead. But Ruby didn’t die and the prophecy could still come true.

It is time to end it, for one to die...

Chapter 1

LILY

As red as blood, as white as snow…

The words rang in my mind as I watched the snow fall outside, recalling that horrific night.

I hate this time of year.

Almost nine years to the day and I can still see her face. The look of shock and hurt at my betrayal. My best friend, practically my sister and I murdered her. All because I believed in a prophecy, one that said we were destined to battle to the death.

Why did I listen to Ben? I let him manipulate me, I let him turn me against Ruby. And now I had to live with the consequences. Finding out that I had powers, that we both did, was a big enough shock, but finding out what they were for…A child of light and a child of darkness, both born on the same day – the winter solstice. How could the fight end any other way? How could I not strike the first blow when I knew what would happen if she survived? The world would come to an end. As a doctor, I took an oath to do everything I can to save a life. Killing Ruby meant saving everyone, the one for the many. It seemed like the right decision at the time, I just didn’t know it would hurt this bad.

The snow continued to fall and while the world outside was getting ready for Christmas in a few days, I was haunted by ghosts of my past. It was why I chose to do the late shifts over the holidays. That way I didn’t have time to think, to remember. Except during the short breaks, I was forced to take.

“Paging Dr Blanchard. Dr Blanchard to the nurse’s station.”

Duty calls.

I got up off the cot and smoothed my dark blue scrubs. My break wasn’t over for another fifteen minutes, but I welcomed the interruption. It wasn’t like I was going to get any rest.

As I approached the nurse’s station, Debbie held out the phone to me.

“Says he’s an old friend,” she told me, a slight smirk on her face. She knew I never dated anyone, so I guess she hoped this was someone interested in me.

“Hello?” I said.

“Lily? It’s Ben. How are you?”

I froze at the sound of his voice. How did he find me? Why now?

“Don’t call here again,” I said, slamming the phone down. My heart pounded in my chest. It had been years, I thought it was all over that I would never have to see him again.

Debbie gave me a worried look. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, some guys can’t take a hint,” I said. “I better get back to my rounds.”

How dare he call me now. After everything that happened, he just rings me out of the blue? I hated him, but I hated myself more for being stupid enough to listen to him. That’s why I dedicated my life to the hospital. In some way, I felt like I could work on balancing the scales. Nothing would ever make up for what I did, but with every life I saved, I liked to think it made a difference.

Tell yourself whatever you want. The truth is Ben flashed you that smile you were gone.

I met him a few weeks into my junior year at college. I’d had a few boyfriends, but no one like him. We just clicked. He was funny, smart and he made me feel special.

We were dating for nearly two months when he told me the truth. He was a member of a brotherhood who were tasked with aiding the child of light in carrying out her mission. I didn’t know the mission was murder. Not at first. He let me test out my powers first, told me how I could do great things. I was flattered, excited and I had to admit that having that kind of power at my fingertips was intoxicating. Then he dropped the bombshell. My counterpart, the child of darkness, could end the world if she was allowed to live. I would be doing the world a service by killing her. When he told me it was Ruby, I laughed. Sure, she could be a wild child, a total mess at times, but she wasn’t evil.

Ruby’s face filled my mind again. I had to stop thinking about her. Moving down the hall, I stopped at a patient’s room. A young girl had come in earlier with a bad break in her leg.

“How are you feeling, Lucy?” I asked.

She tried to smile, but I could see she hated being here. She clutched a small stuffed elephant in her arms, her cheeks still wet from her tears.

“Can I go home now?” she asked.

“It will be tomorrow, sweetheart. But don’t worry, we’re taking good care of you.”

Her grip tightened on the elephant, she really didn’t like being here.

“What’s your friend’s name?” I asked, pointing to it.

“Ellie.”

“Well hello, Ellie,” I said, shaking the elephant’s leg. “Oh dear. It looks like Ellie might have hurt her leg too.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“Yes, but I can make it better. May I?”

Lucy hesitated before handing Ellie over. “Just a sec.”

I took her to the corner of the room and wrapped a bright pink bandage around Ellie’s leg. Bringing her back, I held her out. “See? Now I know you don’t like staying here, but Ellie really needs to stay here until tomorrow. And she can’t stay here without her very best friend, can she?”

Lucy took Ellie back and nodded. “Don’t worry, Ellie, I’ll look after you.”

I smiled, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. “Good girl. I’ll check in on you in a bit.”

Lucy knew what it meant when it came to being a best friend, you look after them. You don’t stab them and leave them to bleed out in an alley.

The truth was I had my doubts, right up to the end. I changed my mind a dozen times, but Ben kept pushing. What can I say, I loved him, I trusted him.

Then Ruby did something that surprised me. She refused to kill me when she had the chance. I knew in that moment that I had a choice. Even if I did save the world, I still think I chose wrong.

I’m sorry, Ruby. Wherever you are, I hope you are at peace.

Chapter 2

RUBY

"Ruby, wake up!"

The voice sounded urgent, familiar. I tried to force my eyes open, but I was so tired.

"Ruby!"

Sighing, I cracked an eyelid to find Oz looking at me. Or at least I thought it was him. He looked faded, like he was disappearing. It had been so long since I last saw him. They had me on so many drugs, I couldn't tell what was real or not.

"What?" I mumbled.

"You have to get out of here," Oz said.

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

They didn't just let you walk out of a mental hospital. Not when you were taken in and forcibly detained.

I had lost track of how long I'd been in here. Months? Years? It all blurred together.

“They were late with your meds, that’s why you can see me.”

I vaguely remembered shouting earlier. Something must have happened, distracted the nurses from their usual routine.

“You have to stop taking them. Please Ruby.”

I couldn’t stay awake any longer. Why would he want my help, I was a failure. And he was nothing more than ghost that only I could see.

Oz’s words stayed with me though, even through the fog. The next day, when the nurse handed out my meds, I hid mine under my tongue. I was so zoned out, she didn’t even check. Just expected me to be a good little girl.

When she moved onto the next patient, I took the pill out and shoved it into my pocket. If Oz was still here, then I wanted to talk to him. I needed to talk to him. He was the only one who understood. He tried to help me and he ended up dying for it. Killed at the hands of his own brother. No one believed me about Lily, about what she did. They thought I was crazy, maybe I was, but it didn’t take away what she did to me. I had a permanent reminder on my stomach if I ever doubted it.

It took a while for the fog to lift enough to see Oz again. One minute I was staring out the day room window and the next, Oz flickered into view. I tried not to react, no point alerting the nurses or they would drug me again.

I beckoned him over. He smiled when he realized I could see him.

He still looks the same.

Crouching beside me, he said, “Finally. You’ve no idea how frustrating it has been, trying to get through to you.”

“I'm sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. But I need you to stay in control. We need to get you out if here so you can finish the job.”

My brow furrowed. “You mean killing Lily? Oz, it’s been years. I tried to take her out, but it took so long to recover, then find her again. I ran her off the road, I thought that was it.”

My last attempt was a feeble one, but I took a shot.

“She was injured, but she’s still alive. She didn’t even know it was you who did it. She thinks you are dead, that means she won’t see you coming.”

I shook my head. “I thought the world was supposed to end if I didn’t do it? Yet here we are.”

Oz sighed in frustration. “This isn’t the movies. The end if the world doesn’t happen in a fiery explosion. Its gradual. Look at how bad things are, it’s only going to get worse until one of you is dead.”

I closed my eyes. I devoted years to just that, until that night on the road. I drove Lily into a ditch. When I saw her slumped over the wheel, I thought I was done. Another car stopped, so I drove away, before I could check if she was actually dead.

The days after were a blur as I both celebrated and grieved the loss of my friend. I was found wandering the streets talking about destiny and killing my friend. That’s how I ended up here. At first, I fought them, but then I started to like that I couldn’t think.

“I think I should stay here,” I said.

“No, Ruby. Please you have to finish this. You swore you would do it.”

I turned my head away, tears filling my eyes. I did promise to get revenge, but I was so tired and not just from the drugs. I couldn’t do it anymore. Wherever Lily was now, I’m sure she was suffering too.

“I’m sorry, Oz, but I belong here. I should tell the nurse I missed my meds.”

Getting unsteadily to my feet, I turned toward the nurse's station, but Oz's next words stopped me in my tracks.

“You know she’s a doctor? She has a great apartment, money, friends. Everyone loves her. They can’t say enough about Dr Blanchard.”

A doctor? I knew it was what she wanted to be, but after what happened... She was out there saving lives and acting the hero after what she did to me?

“That bitch!” The words escaped me before I could stop them.

The nurse’s head whipped up and she narrowed her eyes at me. “Something wrong, Miss Doe?” They didn’t know my real name, so I became Jane Doe. I wasn’t going to tell them the truth.

I shook my head, sitting back down. I had to be careful.

“We can end this, Ruby. Are you with me?” Oz asked.

I nodded. “Yes. Let’s make that bitch pay.”

He smiled. “First, we need to get you out of here. But I have a plan.”

Chapter 3

LILY

I left the hospital close to dawn, ready to sleep. As I headed toward my car, I had the feeling that I was being watched. Spooked, I glanced around. Everything was eerily quiet with the falling snow.

If it was some would be mugger then they would be in for a surprise if they came at me. I may have sworn off using my magic, but I wouldn’t hesitate to defend myself.

Moving determinedly to my car, I had my keys at the ready. As I pressed the button to unlock it, someone spoke.

“Hello, Lily.”

Not him.

Turning slowly, I found Ben behind me, looking like no time had passed at all. He wore a heavy winter coat and jeans. Once upon a time, even a glimpse of him would have turned me to jelly, now he made me feel sick.

“I told you to leave me alone,” I said.

“I know, but unfortunately, this is bigger than you and me.”

“Why can’t you get this into your head? If you won’t stay away from me, I’ll call the cops on you. “

I jumped into my car and drove off, leaving him standing there.

Back home, I locked the door and poured myself a drink. I would need several of them to sleep tonight.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Open the door, Lily.”

Fuck. He knows where I live too. I probably led him straight here.

“Go away!” I screamed.

“Not until you hear me out!”

He was going to draw the attention of the neighbors. Slamming my glass down on the kitchen table, I opened the door.

“You have two minutes and then you leave me alone for good.”

He walked in, eyes taking in my apartment. “Nice place.”

“Get to the point.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I got word a few days ago. Ruby is alive.”

My heart thumped in my chest. “What? You’re sure?”

He nodded. “She is in a mental institution. We can send people to get her out, but I need you ready to kill her. She'll be vulnerable, probably drugged up to the eyeballs.”

My mind still reeled from the news. Ruby was alive. I always hoped, but when she disappeared, I assumed she had dropped dead somewhere from her wounds and no one found the body. By then, I had left Ben behind and I didn’t have their resources to check.

“Wait, what? You want me to kill her while she’s helpless?”

“No point in taking any more chances.”

I shook my head in disgust. “Get out.”

He looked confused. “I don’t think you heard me. Ruby is alive.”

“I heard you and I’m glad! I’ve been wracked with guilt all these years over what I did to her. Tell those asshole brothers of yours to leave her be.”

He took a step toward me and I threw up my hand, which crackled with energy. “You know what I can do, Ben. Don’t test me. Get out.”

He smirked. “You’ll regret this. I just hope the world doesn’t end in the meantime.”

Strolling to the door, he left, slamming it behind him.

I sank onto the couch.

She’s alive.

NINE YEARS AGO

I’m a killer.

My mind reeled as I tried to come to terms with this fact. I couldn’t function, I let Ben lead me away. We got in the car and we drove through the night, putting as much distance between us and them as possible.

The bodies.

I glanced at Ben as he drove, he seemed so calm. How could that be? He just murdered his own brother. I couldn’t understand why. Oz may have sided with Ruby, but he wasn’t allowed to interfere.

“Why?” I croaked.

He glanced at me. “What?”

“Why did you…kill Oz?”

“I thought he was making a move on you. Oz is impulsive, I wouldn’t have put it past him to try and save her.”

“Was,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Was impulsive, not is.”

I put my head in my hands. Here I was arguing tenses and I just left my best friend to bleed out in the snow. She might still be alive, lying there…all alone.

“We have to go back.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Ben said.

“No, we have to go back. Maybe there’s still time to save her.”

He looked at me like I was insane. “She’s gone, Lily. You know that.”

I started crying hysterically as it all hit me. Oh God, Ruby, I’m so sorry.

Ben took us to a motel room for the night. I lay curled up on the bed, staring into space. He tried talking to me a few times, but I ignored him.

The next day, I checked the newspapers, the TV for some news about what happened but there was nothing. For all I knew, she might still be lying there, under the snow and no one knew she was there.

“What do I do?” I said to myself.

“You get on with your life,” Ben said, coming out of the bathroom.

“What?”

“Go back to school. Go on to med school, it’s what you want, right?”

“How can you say that? I can’t do any of that.”

“Of course you can. No one will tie you to Ruby. The brotherhood will cover it up. You’ve done your job and now you can carry on.”

I got up off the bed. “Fuck you, Ben. I wish I’d never met you. Stay the hell away from me.”

Opening the door, I started to run.

Chapter 4

RUBY

“Stop,” Oz said. “Hide.”

I ducked into an alcove as an orderly passed by. Having Oz as my lookout made it a lot easier to move through the building. I managed to snag a key card off another orderly by bumping into him. He just rolled his eyes at me, thinking I was drugged.

Once the orderly was out of sight, I hurried down the hall after Oz.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night. There were less staff members on duty, which made this easier too, but if they caught me, I’d be on lockdown. Part of me almost wanted that to happen. I was angry at Lily, but was I up to another fight with her?

I had very little practice with my powers. I could never do much more than blast someone. Oz said we were capable of so much more. I’m sure Lily had it down to a fine art. She could probably kill me with a wave of her hand.

Maybe that would be a blessing. Then it would be over.

We made it to the exit.

“Okay, you have those car keys?” Oz asked.

I held them up. Something else I managed to grab on the way out.

“Good, find the car and get out.”

I wondered if I would be able to drive with the way my head was spinning. But Oz kept urging me on.

I found the car – an old Ford at the back of the lot. Hopping inside, I found a coat draped over the passenger seat. Lifting it, I put it on to hide my clothes.

“Almost there,” Oz said, appearing in the seat beside me.

Maybe, but I still had to get through the gate. Hesitating, I looked back at the building. Maybe I should just go back inside.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Oz, I...”

“For crying out loud, Ruby. She is out there, living her life while you were locked in this shithole. The paragon of virtue wins again.”

I gripped the wheel. “That’s not what this is.”

“Ben is with her. You remember my darling brother? I believe the last time you saw him, he was slitting my throat.”

“All right,” I snapped, starting the car.

Driving slowly toward the gate, I could see a guard inside. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Just act natural.”

I rolled to the window, keeping my gaze straight ahead. The man ambled out of the hut and came toward me. “Hey, Bob, how’s things?”

He leaned down and looked into the car, his brow instantly furrowing. “You’re not Bob.”

“Blast him,” Oz ordered.

I threw my hand out and nothing happened. I hadn’t used my power in a long time, maybe it had stopped working.

“Stay right there,” the guard ordered, turning away.

“Ruby!”

I got out of the car, took a deep breath and tried to summon my power. I felt it erupt from me and it hit the guard in the back. He pitched forward, striking his head in the wall in front of him. He crumpled to the ground.

Breathing hard, I hurried into the hut and pressed the button to open the gate. Racing back to the car, I drove off, leaving him lying in the snow.

“Do you think he’s okay?” I asked.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Oz said. “Now head north. I’ll tell you where to go.”

It took almost a day to reach the town where Lily lived. As a ghost, Oz could visit her without her knowing and learn things about her.

“She’s on the night shift. Should be easy to sneak up on her.”

Ruby parked the car far from the hospital. “I don’t have a weapon.”

“It’s a hospital. Should be something lying around that you can use.”

He made it sound so simple. But he wasn’t the one who would have to do it.

Keeping the coat wrapped tightly around me, I headed inside. If anyone asked, I could pretend I was visiting, although I’m sure I looked more like a patient.

It was a big hospital, it could take a while to find...and there she was. Lily stepped out of a room up ahead, staring at a chart in her hands. I remembered the girl in the kitten pajamas when I thought of her, but now all I could see was the cold bitch who stabbed me in that alleyway. My hand went to the scar on my stomach. She left me for dead.

Lily started walking away from me. I followed, waiting for the right moment.

When she stepped into a private room, I went in after her. A quick glance at the bed showed an unconscious patient. No one to call for help. Lily must have sensed me. She turned, but before she could say a word, I grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall behind her.

Her eyes widened as she recognized me. “Ruby!” she choked.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, did you?”

I squeezed tighter. I didn’t have a weapon, but I would happily kill her with my bare hands.

Lily slapped at my arms, trying to break free. When she realized it wasn’t going to work, she threw her hand out and I felt my feet leave the ground. I hit the ground, wincing in pain.

“Enough,” Lily snapped.

Angry, I got to my feet. “It’ll be enough when you’re dead.”

“Not here,” Lily hissed. “Someone will call the police.”

I got to my feet, waiting for her to make a move. “Where then?”

“Somewhere we won’t be disturbed. There’s an old warehouse across town. After my shift, just before dawn.”

I snorted. “Right. So is it a trap or do you plan on running?”

Lily sighed. “Neither. This is never going to go away. It’s time to finish what we started.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you there.”

I left quickly and returned to the car.

Chapter 5

Ben was waiting me after my shift ended. “I know Ruby was here. What happened?”

“We agreed to meet somewhere private.”

“Good. Don’t hesitate, strike first and...”

“I’m not striking at all.”

“What?”

“I’m going to talk to her. Try and reason with her.”

“You can’t.”

“Probably not. But if I can’t then I’ll let her do what she has to.”

“You going to let her kill you!”

Lily shrugged. “Only fair. I tried to kill her.”

Grabbing my bag, I headed for my car.

“This is insane, Lily. If she kills you, then evil wins,” he said, grabbing my arm.

I pulled away. “I don’t think she is evil. You and your brotherhood are. Manipulating us.”

“Look around, Lily. Look at the crap that is happening to the world. This is because of you two.”

“Then it will end, one way or another.”

As I climbed into my car, he said, “I’m coming with you.”

I quickly locked the doors. “I don’t think so,” I muttered.

I drove away, leaving him standing there.

The warehouse lay in darkness as I approached it. I could see a car parked in the distance. Ruby? I imagine she would have gotten here early, to check the place out. Maybe she had a trap ready to spring on me. I wouldn’t blame her.

I headed into the building, finding a broken door at the side. I didn’t know whether Ruby broke it or it was already like that.

The building was silent. The sun hadn’t risen yet, although it would soon. I didn’t have a flashlight, all I had was my penlight from the hospital. Switching it on, I moved through the debris in the building.

“Hello, old friend,” Ruby said from somewhere up ahead.

“Ruby? Are we going to do this in the dark?” I asked.

There was a crack and she was lit up by a glow stick. She lit several more and tossed them around the room.

“Kind of reminds me of that night in the alley,” Ruby said.

“Ruby, I…”

“Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

“Well you are going to. What I did…it was wrong. I should have told Ben to go to hell. You were my best friend and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Ruby looked angry in the semi darkness. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it.”

“I know. But I think I know something that will.” I held my arms out. “Do what you want.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to fight?”

“No. I’m done fighting. I won’t hurt you, but if you feel the need to hurt me, then I won’t stop you.”

Ruby raised her right arm and I caught the glint of a knife. She hesitated and I could see the struggle on her face. There was a chance I could still reach her.

“We don’t have to do any of this,” I said.

“Like hell we don’t.” She ran at me.

Before she could reach me, someone appeared out of the darkness and tackled Ruby.

“Lily, kill her,” Ben screamed, trying to pin Ruby’s arms.

“You son of a bitch!” I spat. He followed me again.

“I knew it was a trick,” Ruby yelled, struggling against Ben.

“Let her go, Ben.”

I grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him back, giving Ruby the chance to free her hand and blast him. He rolled across the floor.

Ruby leapt to her feet and went for me. She slashed at me with the knife. “Just like before. Your little boyfriend sneaks in and does your dirty work. He murdered Oz, his own brother.”

Ben staggered back toward us, grabbing Ruby’s arms again. “Finish it,” he said.

I snatched the knife from her hand. “I will.”

I stabbed Ben in the chest. He released Ruby, staggering back, his hand going to the knife. He looked at me in shock.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you deserve it for what you did to us.”

He slumped to the ground and keeled over.

“You killed him,” Ruby said.

“Yes, I told you, we don’t have to do this. The brotherhood wants this, they want us to kill each other. Why the hell are we giving them what they want?”

Ruby stared at me, trying to decide if I was telling her the truth. I just killed Ben, I didn’t know what else I could do to persuade her.

The sound of cars arriving outside drew our attention.

“Cops?” Ruby asked.

I shrugged. How would they know about this?

We hurried to the door and looked out. The cars that arrived were not police cars. At least a dozen men emerged from them and headed for the building.

“Who are they?” Ruby asked.

“The brotherhood. They’re here for us.”

Chapter 6

Lily and I backed away from the door, heading deeper into the building. The sun was rising outside, making it easier to see, but it also made it easier for them to see us.

“Ben must have called them before he got here,” Lily said.

“Well you would know more about them than I would,” I spat.

“I only know what Ben told me about them. Oz should have done the same, but from the sound of it, they didn’t want you to get any help, so I could kill you.”

“I thought it was supposed to be a fair fight?”

“Apparently not.”

Typical. Everyone was against me. I turned to Oz. “You didn’t think the same way?”

“I was told not to help you, but I went anyway. It isn’t right that you were unprepared. Then when I met you, I knew I had to do everything I could to keep you safe.”

“Who are you talking to?” Lily asked.

“Oz. He’s still here.”

Lily looked around. “Where? Whatever he is saying, don’t listen to him. He’s part of the brotherhood.”

“He tried to save me.”

Before she could say anything else, the men entered the building. They came armed, but surely, they weren’t allowed to kill us. Or were they sick of waiting for us to do it and thought they’d finish the job themselves?

I blasted one of them as he got close to me, but all it did was knock him on his ass. Lily threw her hand out and they went down like dominos.

“Figures,” I muttered.

She glared at me. “You had time to learn this too.”

Yeah, but I’m not Little Miss Perfect. Some of us have to work harder.

We ducked out of sight, while more men poured in. Where were they all coming from?

“Any ideas?” I asked Oz.

“Try to survive. They aren’t going to stop,” he said.

Well that’s useless.

One of the men rounded the corner and spotted me. He swung a sword at my head. Without thinking, I threw my hands out and he lifted off the ground. He looked stunned, hanging in midair. It didn’t last long as I swung my arm toward the other men and he crashed into them, taking them down like bowling pins.

I gave Lily a satisfied? look. She looked mildly impressed. The problem was the men kept coming and they weren’t going to stop.

“We should run,” I yelled, as I blasted them left and right.

“I have a better idea,” Lily said. She flipped one guy through the air, then hurried to my side. “We both have power, what if we use it at the same time?”

She held her hand out to me. I hesitated. She was probably right, we probably could do some damage, but that would mean working with her, trusting her.

“Its this or we both die,” she said.

Sighing, I took her hand. The moment they connected, I could feel the power surge between us, almost like my power was reaching out to hers.

“Together,” Lily said.

We both threw our hands out at the same time and a huge wave of energy erupted from us. It struck everyone in the room, electrocuting them. Their bodies convulsed as the wave hit them, before dropping to the floor, dead.

We stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“What the hell was that?” I said.

“I don’t know, but it was powerful,” Lily said, looking at the carnage before us.

“I don’t get it, why did that work? Aren’t we supposed to be enemies?”

“What if we’re not?” Lily said.

I looked for Oz, to see if he could provide any answers but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

Someone giggled behind us and we turned to find the dwarf.

“That’s the creep who started all this,” I growled.

His beady eyes narrowed at us. “Now, now. I didn’t create you, I just made it possible for you to be born.”

“Why?” Lily demanded. “Why did this all have to happen? Do we really have to kill each other?”

His lip twitched, but he kept his mouth closed.

“We don’t, do we?” I said.

“Answer her,” Lily snapped when he stayed silent.

“No, you don’t. You have to exist in this world, but we can’t have you two working together, you are too powerful.”

“So you turned us against each other? If one of us kills the other, then the threat is over.”

“It’s worked before. And be honest, can you two really trust each other? She did stab you, Ruby. Don’t you want your revenge?”

Even now, he was still trying to manipulate us. All of this had been for nothing. I glanced at Lily and she gave me a slight nod. We blasted him, but the asshole vanished before we could hit him.

“Urgh, where did he go?” Lily raged.

“He does that.” I leaned against a broken shelving unit. “We ruined our lives over this. Well, I did.”

Lily glared at me. “You don’t think I suffered too?”

“Not as much as I did!”

She held up her hand. “Stop, we can’t keep doing this. Damn it, Ruby, they screwed with us. But now the brotherhood is gone, we don’t have to live like this. We’re free.”

I snorted. “That means something different to you than it does me. You have a life.”

“And now you can too. Please, Ruby. Can this be over?”

I considered her words. There was no reason to kill each other, we could just walk away.

“Maybe we could even use our powers for something good?” Lily suggested.

“I’m willing to call a truce, but there’s no way in hell I would ever work with you.”

I headed outside, into the falling snow. There was still no sign of Oz. Maybe he was gone for good.

Lily stepped out beside me. “Happy birthday, Ruby.”

I glanced at her. “Yeah, happy birthday.”

Walking back to my car, I climbed inside. I could go anywhere, start again.

“Oz?” I called. He didn’t appear. He was here to help me with Lily and now we had agreed not to fight, he must have moved on.

It really is over.

Lily got into her car and drove away. Who knew what we were capable of together? Maybe one day, we could find out.

The End

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can check out the companion story – Rose Red: As Red As Blood.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author S. K. Gregory writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance and horror novels. She currently resides in Northern Ireland where she works as an editor.

You can find out more about her books at www.skgregory.com

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Fireworks And Magic

Daemon’s Designs #0 (Urban Fantasy with a kiss of paranormal romance)

M.T. Finnberg

About Fireworks and Magic

With Christmas right around the corner, what can you get for your full-blood demon bestie in the supernatural halfling and human buzz of Junction City?

Tessa has the perfect idea, but there’s one minor detail…She needs to break into the demon den to get it.

But she’s got her magic-annulling Stifler gun from work as a monster hunter, and she’s been to the Underworld Den before. No biggie.

Dressed in the Santa outfit she got for her fiancee — hey, the beard covers her face nicely, so they won’t even know what hit ‘em, and the hat adds a nice touch — she sets out to sneak into the demon den vault and to be back in time to make preparations for the Christmas party.

This should be fun…

Fireworks and Magic

I muttered an incantation that turned on my dark sight. Strands of light flowed across my field of vision, and the desolate-looking, barren mountain slope around me sprouted new features — this was what a demon would see. It had taken me a while to get the hang of this spell, but it was one of the most useful in my tool box, especially handy on my work assignments, whether I was zapping Nethersheen monsters with my magic-annulling gun…or dealing with vampire, demon, and werewolf troublemakers and thugs downtown.

I chose one of the entrances to the demon den, the widest crack in the rock face with the fiercest lava-red glow. I’d been to the demon Underworld before and did not look forward to going back in, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…All I needed to do was to get to the vault and back without being noticed and, well, accidentally fried by trigger-happy demon guards.

The crimson glow looked assuring, the free flow of light telling me it was likely the easiest passage. All the entrances were guarded by wards cooked up with demonic magic. Oh, I’d get through, no question, but I didn’t exactly enjoy the feel of going through demonic spell walls. Being an angelus halfling, I’d heard it stung me worse than some other people, and that would have been easy to believe, because it sure burned like a bastard.

The entrances were scattered across the tilting ground, creating an ominous display like the ghosts in a haunted house had decided to try out their Christmas lights…They were nothing but slits in the bedrock, or narrow caves, filled with this supernatural, crimson glow. The glow had an eerie feel to it, but knowing it was simply from the smouldering hearths of demons, nothing worse, I didn’t pause at it.

If I was quick, and if I only found my way to the vault I was looking for in the tunnel complex, I trusted I’d be out by midnight, and could get back to shopping for the Christmas get-together we were planning with my fiancee, Reed.

Just get it over with, girl…

The feathers of my Venetian mask tickled my cheek, and I adjusted the straps better around my ponytail, which happened to match the dark purple mask rather perfectly, if I said so myself. No need to be fashion-clueless even when you raid demon dens, am I right or am I right?

Then I had to hide a smile, thinking about how I actually would have looked to any demon guards bumping into me, because not only was I wearing this awesome glittering Venetian mask, on the other hand I also sported a pointy, red Santa Claus hat and a magnificent fake beard. Yes. I, Tessa Davies, Junction City’s badass monster hunter, normally seen in nice heels and a leather jacket, was dressed as Santa…or more precisely, Santa, who was apparently about to attend a Venetian dance ball. Hey, he’s allowed a little fun, too, isn’t he?

I’d gotten the Santa outfit for Reed to wear for the Christmas Eve get-together, which was going to be super fun, but since I’d had the outfit at hand, and it had seemed so convenient…What can I say? The beard hid my face, and I could nicely hide under the oversized hat. If I ran into guards, yet got away fast enough, nobody would have a clue who had struck. Perfect, no?

Besides, it wasn’t like there would later be any embarrassing, leaked security camera footage of a sneaking Santa — me — because they had no security cameras in the demon den. Demons didn’t do security cameras. I happened to know that the Overlord of the Underworld, Asmodeus, hated tech of all sorts and preferred the demons’ old-fashioned magical ways over ‘complicated modern garbage’ as he so nicely put it.

As the city’s bounty hunter, I was frequently on the news, and had to give some thought into stuff like this, and pics showing me sneaking around as Mysterious Dance Ball Santa was not on my to-do list, but no worries.

Crouching down, I made my way into the tunnel that got warmer and warmer, the further I went. Hearths.

Just as I stepped over a bigger rock, the distinctive feel of geomancy took hold— demonic magic spells laid out as a carpet for intruders to trip over—and the ground began to melt under my feet. The earth underneath my soles became fluid and opaque, and within seconds, all I knew was, I was wading knee-deep in oozing lava. It was nothing but a mind trick. The demons loved their illusion magic. After a disorienting moment, the walls around me turned blueish, and the space opened up to form a roomy, cavernous hall.

I was in. Thanks for the invite!

Thirty yards ahead, I could see where the crimson light was emanating from, exactly: a demonic lava hearth all but blocked the tunnel. Demons placed these hearths here and there in the Underworld tunnel system, for heat and as a source for ward spells and lighting. I shielded my eyes with my hand, squinting against the fierce glow, as I tried to see if there were guards here.

Ah, I wasn’t as alone as I’d felt: a figure stood by the hearth, arms crossed over his chest. Demons looked perfectly human, except for their sturdier fingernails, which formed pointy claws, unless manicured to look more discreet, and their eyes, which always had a reddish tint. In fact, like all darklings, not only did they look human, they were typically gorgeous. But this one wasn’t, not so much, more like, a regular guy with a suspicious, disbelieving frown. His magic presence and aura reached nice and strong all the way where I stood. Potent magic. But then, demons were lucky that way. The impression of strength was amplified by his crimson robes billowing high in the heated air currents from the hearth. This was a plebes, one of Asmodeus’s demon servants.

“You! Stop right there.” He leaned in, and I was guessing he was taking in the details of my fabulous fashion statement.

I called up my magic and sent a bolt of blue lighting his way. It hit him on the shoulder, probably stinging — I hadn’t sent anything loaded with lethal power, just a little taster — and he turned to yank the lighting star out. At that, I called up my camouflage shields and speeded up to a sprint.

I was past him, before he realised I wasn’t intimidated by this little blockade. I supposed I looked like a magic-less human — albeit dressed rather, well, interestingly. My angelus magic didn’t show on the outside, and my magic wasn’t noticeable if I put up camouflage magic shields. It was understandable that a demon guard would expect a human to approach cautiously, but, well, I basically chatted with Nethersheen monsters every other night, so…

I didn’t want to underestimate him, though. Demon magic did overpower mine, that was the plain truth, and though my Stifler gun evened out the situation a little bit, it was still obvious I did not want to get in a fighting ring with this guy.

I ran.

Another guard came out of the shadows, rolling his head, questioning. “What was that all about?”

I assumed he’d been on a break.

“I don’t know, a Christmas, um, event thing? Santa Claus here to…deliver some presents? You know?”

I wondered why he’d say that, until I saw him starting to follow after me. Ah. He didn’t want the attention drawn to how he’d almost let me slip past like a rookie. He’d track me, catch me by himself, and throw me out, without having to bother anyone with the embarrassing details? Was that it?

I cast an aeromancy incantation and kicked myself up in the air, speeding up.

I had a pretty good idea which direction to go to. The only issue was, these tunnels were a complicated maze. But as long as I didn’t make wrong turns too badly and mess it all up in my head, I was golden. It just so happened, my childhood bestie, my dearest and closest friend, was a full-blood demon. He hadn’t lived here, he’d spent all his life in Junction City — a human and halfling town — but he could still tell me about demon den vaults, as all dens were built according to a similar plan. Also, I happened to be engaged to a guy who worked for Asmodeus, the Overlord. If that doesn’t open up a few doors, what does? Reed had access to certain files through work and had been able to dig up a map of the tunnel complex. So, things were flowing along nicely enough. I had the map at hand, and had put my magic to use, so it worked almost like a navigator, alerting me when I was about to take a wrong turn.

I took turn number twenty eight, choosing a tunnel at a junction, and there it was.

The vault door.

Six heavy slabs of stone, in the shape of pointy flower petals, blocked the entrance — like an ominous, black lily.

With demon magic, it would have been child’s play to lift the boulders out of the way. Now, let’s see if angelus halfling’s good currency, here…

I powered up, sent the surges of energy from my palms, and stars of blue lightning began barraging the dark granite. One by one, the streams of light from my hands pushed the boulders to the side, until the doorway was clear.

That wasn’t even hard.

Nice.

I walked in, my hands lifted to the sides, ready at a moments’ notice…but there was no-one in the vault.

I tsk-tsk’d in my mind. How was this guarding your precious things?

Granted, the demons did not have any reason to expect intrusions like this on a regular basis. In English, I was crazy to come here. But first of all, I’d been here before, secondly, I knew Asmodeus would only give me a lecture and throw me out, and finally, I wanted to get the best present for Daemon he’d ever got.

He deserved this.

The thing was, I’d heard Asmodeus had gotten a shipment of sanguine dispensers. Sanguinine was the medicine that kept darklings going in the modern world. It was what every darkling had to take on a regular basis, unless they were hunting for prey. Obviously, these days, a lot of people didn’t want to hunt for prey. Daemon wouldn’t hurt a fly, so hunting for prey was sort of out of the question. He needed his sanguinine. But since he was an outcast to the demons in the den, and an outsider to the registered human and halfling citizens of Junction City, he didn’t get communal rations of sanguinine. Yup. That was the boring part.

He had to buy his sanguinine at the pharmacy, and it cost him an arms and a leg. And the most important part, he couldn’t get dispensers anywhere. They simply weren’t sold anywhere. You could get one at the den, if you were a registered citizen, but he didn’t have access to one. In the fringes of society, you either got by without one and accepted it, or got by without one and kept cursing the fact.

Since Daemon couldn’t get a dispenser, his magic was all over the place, sometimes spiking, sometimes low. A dispenser would have helped keep his sanguinine levels smooth and even.

So, once I heard Asmodeus talking about the shipment and learned where I’d find them, I’d had this idea of getting one for Daemon for Christmas. He’d been rejected by the demon world, when his parents had abandoned him on the street as a baby, and a human woman had found him and raised him — wonderfully, I might add, but that was beside the point. The human laws and regulations in Junction City hadn’t treated him much better, apart from his mom and us, his friends, I wanted to think.

So, yes, he was getting a sanguinine dispenser for Christmas, if you asked me.

I went through the boxes, shelves, and cabinet drawers. Finally, I found the stack of boxes saying, Sanguinine Dispensers, Regular Size.

I got one and put a gold coin in its place. I might have been a sworn enemy to Asmodeus, and thought him nothing but a mean old mob boss of the darkling underworld, but I was no thief.

When I flew out, I ran into another hearth with one sleepy-looking guard, only a few hundred yards from the entrance. I had to halt my flight so fast I toppled over, rolling on the tunnel’s stone floor. My hat was knocked off my head, and I picked it up, adjusting the beard that had run down my face.

The demon stirred, starting to walk up to me. “What’s going on, here?”

My Stifler gun already in my hand, I raised it, climbed to my feet, and began going around the guard. The beard slipped down to again droop around my neck, like a necklace of cotton balls, and I tried pulling it back up, but it wouldn’t stay.

The guard made a face but raised his hands, clearly not worried, more like, puzzled. These guns were not lethal, they just took away your magic for a while, but from his face, I was betting he likely didn’t want the hangover that resulted from a blast.

“No need to shoot, I know you. You’re that bounty hunter…I know the Overlord hired you for a monster hunt. Honestly, no need for this,” he muttered, ruby-tinted eyes faintly glowing in the flickering shadows and fire from the hearth — which told me he was preparing to strike with his magic, if things turned south. “I heard you did a good job,” he added, “and sending the eeries to the Nethersheen like you’re doing, boom, boom, no wonder he hired you.”

Hired me, yes, like once, almost a year ago, but you don’t need to know that…

And who would have guessed I’d have a fan in the demon den?

I put away my Stifler, but went over a few angelus magic incantations in my mind, just to be sure. If he changed his mind, I was a ticking time bomb, here.

“Thank you. I’ll be off,” I muttered.

His face was cryptic. Well, demons were naturally suspicious of everything. They weren’t the most honest beings themselves, and perhaps that made them suspicious of everyone else, since they did have to live among each other, poor souls.

Our tiny living room was crowded, the Christmas tree twinkling, and the lights around the windows winking, with classic Christmas pop hits playing in the background. Reed and I had only invited nine people altogether, but our little dream apartment by the river was no mansion — however, what it was, right now, was cozy and prettied up, as we’d decorated our hearts out with all sorts of Christmassy things.

There was my sister Audrey and her husband, Reed’s brother and his boyfriend, and some of our closest friends, plus my boss’ toy poodle running around in excited circles. Cartland had wanted to visit his old mother, and couldn’t take Noodles with him, so we’d promised to dog-sit this cute little ball of fluff.

Noodles had competition in fluffiness: I had forfeited the Santa outfit to Reed. He made it look better, anyway. He managed to even make the beard kind of sexy, which was a lot said — um, a mess of fuzzy, white cotton, anyone?

I smiled at Daemon, my bestie, my bestest-ever childhood buddy, as he tore open the wrapping of his gift. Reed put an arm around my shoulders, standing beside me.

When Daemon saw the dispenser, his eyes widened. For him, the rule-of-thumb about demons having gotten lucky in the looks department held true for sure — he was a charmer, a brooding, ruby-eyed twenty-three-year-old, who looked like he’d swallowed a poetry book. Right now, that look of surprise on him was so adorable I wanted to squeeze him like a rag doll.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” he asked me, beaming.

“Buddy, you deserve it.”

“Where the heck did you even find one?”

“Let’s just say, little birds told me there was a box with your name on it in the demon den.”

“…You kick ass.”

“Well, I’m not gonna deny that…” I laughed.

Reed put a golden, square gift box in my hand. The giant ribbon bow on top shimmered in the glow of Christmas lights.

“Your turn,” he said in his warm, sandalwood voice. Being a dryad, he managed the sandalwood part pretty awesomely. In other words, swoon.

I wasn’t sure I even needed more gifts…I already had everything I wanted right here.

Outside, in the windows, fireworks burst out into the evening sky. The yearly Junction City Christmas Galore downtown with its fireworks.

Fitting.

Beautiful.

I decided to memorise this moment and lock it deep in my heart to think back on whenever I was feeling glum. This perfect moment would sweep away everything gray, and the best part was, I was sure there would be lots more just like this.

The End

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can also get the series novels by searching Daemon’s Designs #1 (Urban Fantasy With A Kiss Of Paranormal Romance).

About the Author

I’m a fantasy and scifi nut through and through. Once I found my big brother’s bookshelves, there was no turning back — like they say, through books we can live a thousand lives. Books can soothe us, transform us or just entertain us, and all that’s good.

I used to work as a psychologist, but took the leap to set up a small business to find more time for my kids and writing. I hail from the tiny country of Finland, where you can tell it’s summer when your feet plop out of the ice (well, that's how it can sometimes seem)...In my spare time, I can be be found cross-country skiing with my phone in one hand (you know how it is, when those plot twist ideas pop into your head, right!?) or wandering about sipping on a smoothie (very likely).

I'm going to be dabbling in different genres, starting with urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and a military space opera series...for now! ;) You're welcome to join my gang on Facebook (Never Too Many Books), and if you’d like to hear about fabulous fantasy reads, book prizes, giveaways, and all things awesomely bookish, you can join my newsletter here:

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Read More of M.T.’s Books

Wing Walker (Swooning Moon Saga #1)

Shards of the Stars

A Rose In The Ashes (Fantasy Fairytale Retelling of Sleeping Beauty — This Time Told By The Witch)

Ghosts in the Snow

Lily Luchesi

About Ghosts in the Snow

Vincent Cross, a mortal, marries Veronica Delarue, a vampiress, with a winter wedding. Everything seems fine until the spirits appear, trying to drive Vincent from Cumberland Manor.

Can the duo stop the ghosts before Christmas, or will they take over the Manor?

Ghosts in the Snow

“Do you, Vincent Cross, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Shining blue eyes looked down into black ones as a deep voice stated, “I do.”

“And do you, Veronica Delarue, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Those black eyes crinkled a bit in the corners as a soft voice declared, “I do.”

“By the power vested in me by Her Majesty the Queen, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Vincent smirked as he leaned down for the kiss; this was certainly not the first time he kissed Veronica, and she knew it was the cause of his smirk. She smiled into the kiss, feeling her fangs try to escape their sheath inside her gums.

Tonight, she promised herself. You will Claim him tonight, at the Witching Hour.

The orchestra played all of their favourite songs during the reception. It was held in the main hall of Cumberland Manor, lavishly decorated with the finest wedding decor. A band was set up in one corner, a buffet for the non-immortal guests in the other, and the smallest corner featured living blood banks for the vampiric guests.

The food was made by the best chef, one that Veronica planned to hire to cook for her husband during the day. Considering Veronica herself had one domestic skill, and it typically did not involve a kitchen, the chef would be needed. At least until she could finally convince him to turn.

“Fabulous wedding, Mrs. Cross,” said Benjamin Quinn. He was one of her new husband’s best friends and was the best man in the wedding. She didn’t know him well. She assumed that he and his partner, Doctor Michael Finnigan, weren’t comfortable being around her, considering the fact that, once upon a time, they tried to kill her.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinn,” she replied. “And thank you for coming.”

He smiled and gave a little head bow. “My pleasure. It is wonderful to see Vincent so joyful.”

Michael Finnigan approached, a bit more inebriated than Benjamin. “Hello, Veronica, dear. Absolutely delightful night.” He was far less professional than Benjamin. He pumped her hand as though she was a man.

“Glad you are enjoying yourself,” she replied.

“Indeed we are. The winter theme is lovely,” he said, taking a sip of wine.

“He’s drunk to avoid his fear that one of your friends will recognise us as hunters and eat us,” Benjamin explained, a wicked little smile playing on his lips.

Veronica chuckled. “Really? How cute. No, my dear boy, no one here is going to eat you. We have perfectly good blood donors stationed over there. Your blood is saturated with liquor anyway.” She gave a mock shudder. “Now, where is my husband?”

“Talking to my brother,” Benjamin said with a roll of his eyes.

“Is that for Vincent or your brother?” she wondered.

“My brother. Vincent is wonderful. My brother, on the other hand, is a pretentious blowhard.”

Veronica’s lips quirked. “You know, funny you say that. I’ve heard others say the same thing about you, dear. Must run in the family.”

She walked away, leaving Benjamin befuddled and Michael in stitches.

Vincent was not difficult to spot, with his shock of black hair. And talking to Mahon Quinn, who was well over six feet tall with reddish hair, made him even more conspicuous. With them was Constable George Linwood, a rough-and-tumble fellow who was prematurely grey. He and Mahon worked closely together to monitor paranormal crime.

Meanwhile, Vincent, Benjamin, and Michael were employed by Parliament to control the paranormal community. Until a year ago, when Vincent began courting Veronica, the hunters killed indiscriminately. It didn’t matter if the creature never harmed a human: if they were paranormal, they were slaughtered.

Veronica helped to change Vincent’s mind, and he in turn changed the minds of his colleagues. All but one, that was.

She approached the three men and looped her arm boldly through Vincent’s. Despite being married, in those days, a woman should never act so brazen with a man in front of others. Veronica, however, was never fond of rules.

“Hello, love,” Vincent said, kissing the top of her head.

“Oi, that might make me ill,” George complained playfully.

“Loo is down the hall to the right,” Veronica replied. “Vincent, we should begin opening the presents before our mortal guests become so inebriated, we must host them overnight.”

Vincent smirked. He obviously knew she meant Michael and George over everyone else.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you have a spare coffin for them?” Mahon questioned lightly.

“Yes, and a plot in the cemetery at Christ the King church if they vex me enough.” Veronica winked at Vincent and turned. She knew he would follow her; she knew he was wrapped around her little finger. And not by thrall, but by choice. Something most people — species notwithstanding — thought was impossible. The two of them defied all the odds with their relationship.

The gifts presented to them were generous, especially considering that the Delarue estate was worth more than what amounted to a modern billion US dollars. But the giving of gifts was not about what the new couple needed. It was the sentiment of it all, the presents in celebration of the union. They were symbolic more than anything.

They were down to the last box, ornately wrapped in white paper with a beige lace bow. It was small, and had no card attached. Vincent’s brow knitted as he held it. Something did not seem right, and both of the Crosses could feel it.

“Perhaps save this for another time?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “What could it possibly be? Collected sunlight?”

“Miniature bomb?” she suggested. People were making them smaller and smaller. One could never be too careful when it came to mortals and their deadly weapons.

Vincent gave a wry grin and began to open the box. Set inside was another small, unmarked box. A piece of paper was sticking out from the opening. Handwriting was barely visible from the other side.

Veronica’s Undead heart began to beat harder in her chest, causing the fresh blood she drank to distribute faster. The floor began to swim under her and the sudden dizziness made it impossible for her to tell Vincent to not open that box.

He slipped the note out, and Veronica coughed. He glanced at her to be sure she was all right and then began to read.

“Like the foolish, lovesick rube you are, you have no idea what awaits you in Cumberland Manor, and your wife, too. This is my final attempt to save your soul, but I am afraid that, perhaps, it was too far gone from the moment you met that demon.

“Happy wedding day. Leander.”

Oh no, she thought. “Don’t open that any further!”

Vincent stopped, hands completely still as she coughed again. “There’s bloody garlic in there. You open that, myself and my friends will all surely die before we can get enough of the cure made in time!”

He gingerly put the small box down on the table and instinctively went to go to his wife, who waved him away.

“Wash your hands before you even consider touching me,” she scolded. “Someone care to get rid of that box for us? Anyone?” She coughed once more. Were she exposed much longer, and she would wind up requiring the cure.

Benjamin edged his way between the couple and grabbed the box. “I do believe that it is high time for the party to end, Mrs. Cross. Remember, always leave them wanting more.” He winked. “Congratulations once again.”

Once Vincent thoroughly scrubbed his hands, the couple said goodbye to their guests.

“I sincerely apologise,” he told every vampire who left. Some accepted his apology. Some merely glared at him and walked away.

One vampiress looked at Veronica and said, “I certainly hope convivial society with him is worth it.”

“Trust me, it is,” Veronica replied, much to the horror of her friend, who stomped away as though she was somehow offended. She chuckled at her retreating back. “Woman has eternity, yet cannot keep a bedfellow for longer than a decade. I must say, I do think she’s envious.”

He smirked down at her. “Perhaps of me, but certainly not of the fact that you were nearly killed this evening.”

Veronica shrugged. “What’s a wedding without an attempted murder?”

“Jolly right!” Linwood agreed, rather loudly. He was being held up by Mahon as they exited.

“Wonderful wedding. Too bad about the offensive herb,” Mahon commented. “Cross, note that, should I see Leander Price again, I will put it upon myself to put him out of his misery.”

“Send him to me. I would be glad to assist,” she said. “The rake tried to put a bullet in us both. He should have known that it wouldn’t kill me, but would certainly make me mad.”

Vincent looked at his new wife and said, “I’m trained to kill you and I still wouldn’t want to have you so much as annoyed with me.”

She smiled up at him and kissed his nose. “Smart man.”

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally got the last guest out of the house and Vera set the hired help to clean up. Normally, she only had two living blood donors and two lady’s maids to clean, but for the night she hired extra hands so as not to overtax her employees.

“I noticed you haven’t partaken in any blood this evening,” Vincent commented. His blue eyes were a mix of fear and anticipation.

“No, and I believe you know why,” Veronica replied. “Tonight I Claim you. I wanted only your blood to be in my system.”

He cleared his throat. “And that won’t, um, over exert you? Or, that is…”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous. You want to know if the lack of feeding will put me into bloodlust. No. I feed regularly and have for centuries now. One night would not throw me into the thralls of my nature.”

He ran a hand in his hair. “I hope I didn’t offend.”

She shook her head, gently taking his warm hands in her own. “This relationship is not typical in any way, my love. Never fear angering me with valid questions.” She gave his hands a gentle tug, aware that she could harm him if she used more strength.

Mortals are so fragile…

“Are you ready?”

He nodded. “What does Claiming do again?”

“A Claiming is a promise. It connects you to me in minute ways. I will be able to feel your intense emotions, and compel you to come to me if I am ever in need. You will be just a bit stronger, have better senses and reflexes. And most of all, it is a promise that I will one day turn you and make you like me,” she explained.

His hands tightened their hold on hers. “I am ready.”

She led him up the stairs to the second level. A large picture window illuminated the hallway, and they both stopped to admire the view. The moon was bright and snow gently covered the ground. It was still falling in fat, fluffy flakes that would feel like walking on clouds the next day.

“We had our first kiss in this hall,” Vincent commented, his thumb caressing her hand.

“You also nearly killed me here,” Veronica replied.

“Faux pas. It won’t happen again,” he vowed, smiling.

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that night. It was a gala she hosted, and had invited Vincent for two reasons: one, she knew he was a hunter and wanted an alibi if she had to kill him. Two, if she didn’t have to kill him, he really was quite handsome.

Veronica turned him down a corridor and his thoughts were interrupted by his body being slammed against a wall and held there by an inhumanly strong hand.

“If you scream, I will not hesitate to kill you,” Veronica hissed. Vincent felt her free hand groping in his inner jacket pocket as she took out the vial of holy water and his gun. “Did you honestly think I was fooled by your smile and charm? Did you think I was so simple I did not know a hunter when I saw one?”

Vincent felt his heart racing, but at the same time he could not conjure up real fear. Somewhere, deep down, he did not believe that Veronica was planning on killing him. A silly notion, but one he could not shake from his mind.

“Veronica, you don’t want to do this,” he said. “The last recorded murder connected directly to you was over a century ago. Don’t break that streak now, with me. If I do not return, more hunters will show up and you would not stand a chance.”

After a moment, he felt the pressure on his back ease. Of course. She had his weapons, and he was now powerless in her presence. He turned around and stared into the blood red and black eyes that somehow did not instill fear in him...yet. He felt that he could reach her somehow.

“Please, you must listen. From the moment I saw you, I knew there was much more to you than the average vampire. I could have killed you the moment you opened the door, but I did not. I have not. I did not even bring stakes or a blade with me, because I did not wish to kill you tonight, either. Not until I had had proof that you were just like the rest. Do not make me have to kill you. I do not want to.” That was the most candid Vincent had ever been with anyone, and he hoped that it was not in vain.

Veronica stared at him, eyes slowly turning back to their natural brown hue. The menace in her mein seemed to be abating. “I did not understand why you did not try. And you are right: I have never killed for food. Those murders were hunters who had tried to kill me first. I have always survived on living donors. I can show you my books, show you that I pay mortals for blood. It has been my way for four hundred years, and I would never kill for food when it is unnecessary.

“I do not want to kill you, either. I have grown rather fond of you despite knowing what you are.”

Vincent allowed himself a smirk. “I suppose I could say the exact same thing.”

“Not all monsters are murderers. However, all hunters are. Your kind do not understand our ways. You have murdered my friends. You have murdered employees of mine. You have murdered werewolves who fight for king and country in the wars. All because you fear what you cannot understand. We are no different than humans. Some of us have families. We have lives. We can fall in love.”

That last statement was delivered with a direct gaze and a softening of the eye. “I know you cannot believe me simply on my honor, but I can show you the truth. Let me live tonight, and return here tomorrow. Bring your hunter friends if you must. Allow me the grace to state my case, just as mortals on trial get the opportunity to. Let me show you that I could never hurt anyone...least of all you.”

When the paroxysm of love and passion is upon a person, all rational thought leaves the mind as the heart takes over. Vincent closed the distance between them in two long strides of his six-foot-two frame and had her cold body in his arms. She did not fight him. She still did not fight as his eyes gazed upon her and kissed her like a drowning man gasps for air.

While far from her first kiss, it was the best one of Veronica’s long life. She knew then she was in love with the brave, reckless, kind mortal who could not bring himself to harm her. Lucky for her, he felt the same way.

They continued down to their bedroom, though only Vincent slept there. Veronica’s coffin was in a different room down the same hall, a room with windows bolted over with sheet metal and graveyard dirt on the floor.

The bedroom was sumptuously furnished with the best bedding, drapery, carpeting, and furniture. The heavy velvet drapes were pulled wide open and the light of the moon glinted off of the silver handles and bedposts. It was bright enough even for Vincent to see by without lighting candles.

A fluffy layer of snow blanketed the grounds, and it still fell from the Heavens in thick, heavy flakes that muffled all sound from the outside world. It also aided in the brightness of the room, as it magnified the moon’s effects.

A perfect night for a Claiming.

Veronica moved so that she sat atop Vincent. He was splayed against the pillows like a Renaissance painting, cheeks red and hair slicked back with perspiration. Blue eyes, heavy laden with lust and love, glinted in the moonlight. It was almost too much for Veronica to bear to gaze upon.

Her hand trailed down his cheek, over his chin, down his throat, and stopped when it rested over his heart. His skin was so warm, and his heart beat a steady but quick staccato beneath her palm.

“Move, my love, the time is nearly upon us,” Veronica commanded.

Warm hands came to hold her waist and he obeyed, riding a perfect rhythm as she leaned down, pressing cold lips to his heated skin. Blood rushed close to the surface. She was so close she could hear its flow, feel the beat of his pulse like a snare drum. The collage of physical sensations ignited the fire in her heart and eyes. She could feel them glowing in the moonlight as she felt her imminent release.

It was at that moment her fangs fully elongated and she opened her mouth. The teeth merely teased the skin at first, and then she bit down hard as he called out her name in the darkness. Sweet, hot blood flowed into her mouth, and she knew to quickly swallow around the explosion. A few small droplets escaped, falling down her chin and dripping onto her chest as she continued to drink.

Vincent’s blood was hot and sweet; it rejuvenated her like no others before. It felt like she was consuming liquid fire and it was addicting. The only reason she stopped was because she knew he was not ready to be turned, and if she continued to drink, it would no longer be a Claiming but a Siring.

Wrenching her mouth away from his flesh, she used her fangs to open a gash in her wrist. First, she dribbled some blood over his wounds, which closed up, leaving the faintest scar and bruise that would be gone within a few days.

She then placed her wrist to his lips. Not allowing him to drink, she smeared her blood across his lips, and he promptly licked it away, not breaking eye contact with her.

“And now, my sweet Vincent, you are mine.”

As if those words were a summons, the wind outside began to howl louder, buffeting the windows with snow and ice.

Even the stoic Veronica jumped, frightened, as the shutters blew wildly and the window itself unlatched. It flapped back and forth in the wind, banging loudly, hard enough they were both certain the glass would crack.

“Bloody Hell!” Vincent said as he leapt up to close the windows. He pounded on the latch, trying to keep it in place.

Veronica, however, was not looking at her husband. Rather, she was focused on the image appearing behind and to the right of him. An elderly man with long, brittle, white hair stood, leaning on a monogrammed cane. He flickered a few times before becoming totally solid.

“Vincent!” She pointed and he turned.

A seasoned hunter, the ghost itself was most likely not what startled him, but rather the fact that there was one here, in their bedroom. And the spirit looked anything but friendly.

He pointed his cane at Vincent in an accusatory manor. “Mortals do not lie with demons!” he intoned.

Vincent squared his shoulders, his eyes not leaving the spirit. “Who are you? What do you want here, tonight?”

“I am the destroyer of evil in this house.”

Veronica quietly slipped out of bed, keeping an eye on her husband and the spirit.

“No, you are not. You are disturbing us.” Vincent glanced at Veronica and continued, “You do not belong to this world any longer. I compel you to leave this plane and go to your final rest.”

The ghost laughed, a wheezing sound. “You cannot compel me to do anything. Not with the evil running in your veins.”

“Maybe he cannot, but this certainly can.” Veronica swung the iron fireplace poker through the spirit, temporarily decimating it.

Vincent let out a breath. “Friend of yours, perhaps?”

Before Veronica could reply, the house began to tremble beneath their feet.

They grabbed onto each other as the man’s phantom voice rose to fill the very air in the room.

“We are the Keepers of Cumberland Manor, and we will continue our work, no matter how you try to thwart us.”

While Veronica slept in the daytime, Vincent went to the library’s secret room, where he, Benjamin, Michael, George, and Mahon would gather to read the secret tomes and plan their paranormal hunts.

After recounting the encounter with the ghost, he finished with what the spirit said.

“He is hinting that there are more ghosts than him?” Michael asked, shuddering.

Vincent nodded. “It felt as though there was. I need to know who they all are, so I can figure out how to banish them for good.”

Benjamin got up from his seat and went amongst the stacks of books. “Cumberland Manor was thought to be haunted in the beginning of the eighteenth century. Until, of course, a certain Frenchwoman bought the place and turned it into a solo vampire’s nest.” He gave a slight smile. “I know I read about it before…”

“Try Alexander Price’s History of Haunted London,” George commented. “Leander’s great-great grandfather. Excellent writer. Horrible hunter.”

Benjamin listened and found the tome. As he scanned the table of contents, he shouted, “Success! Chapter Nineteen: ‘The Ghosts in the Snow’.” He began to read aloud.

“Beginning in the sixteenth century, a strain of our family took up residence in an Elizabethan manor, heretofore known as Cumberland Manor, after the family name. They took it upon themselves to stop illicit activities between human beings and the unnatural creatures that call London home.

“Sadly, though their plight was noble, Eireann Cumberland went mad, some believe from religious fanaticism, while others say it was the stress of the job that caused brain fever. I, myself, am likely to believe the latter.

“Convinced that there was an evil spirit amongst the residents in the manor, Eireann slaughtered his entire family, and then himself.

“He opened all of the windows on Christmas Eve, letting in an unprecedented blizzard. When the family came to the great room to investigate, they found Eireann with a tray of hot cider and a wide smile. He implored them to drink, which they apparently did. When the constable discovered their corpses, they were all perished, poisoned with Strychnos.

“Eireann himself was also poisoned; he appeared to have strung his body up on the Christmas tree before perishing.

“The manor remained empty until one such creature as Lady Veronica Delarue, an Undead French dignitary, purchased it at a bargain. Before then, every Christmas Eve, Londoners told the tale of the spirits of the Cumberlands, flying in on the snowstorm, every year, the same night. We believe that the family, even in death, are still protecting their home from the monsters.”

Benjamin cleared his throat and closed the book. “Well, my friend, I believe you have got off easy this time.”

“What do you mean?” Vincent asked.

“The solution, my dear Cross, is elementary: we dig up the corpses and burn the remains.”

“Is it not one of the most beautiful sights you have seen?” gushed Veronica as she walked with the hunters into Kensal Green Cemetery. The snow ceased falling that afternoon, leaving the old cemetery in a blanket of pure white, so bright it blinded her as it reflected the light of the moon.

George grimaced. “No, not particularly.”

“Normal folk don’t go around calling cemeteries at night beautiful,” Mahon added.

“Thank Heavens I am not normal, then,” Veronica replied, giving Vincent a little wink.

It was late, but somewhere in the distance, a church practicing for Midnight Mass could be heard singing holiday hymns. It added to the beautiful aura of the night. She adored winter: nothing was actually dead. Nature was merely cold and slumbering, waiting for the proper moment to waken. Much like a vampire in their unearthly sleep.

“No, my dear Lady, no one would ever dare call you normal,” Benjamin agreed. He and Michael led the band through the cemetery, searching for the burial plots of the Cumberland family.

“They won’t be there,” Veronica said when Michael turned towards the rows of commoners’ graves. “They would have a vault.”

It did not take long to locate the vault. It was large and gaudy, even for Veronica’s tastes. Vincent went ahead and used a large pair of pliers to snap open the lock. The door swung open, letting out the noxious air, pent up for over a century.

“Well, that’s rather unpleasant,” Veronica commented. She watched as the men walked into the vault, lighting torches where the moonlight did not penetrate. “Are you certain I cannot assist?”

“We are,” Vincent said as he set the heavy bag filled with a myriad of tools down.

Veronica looked about, counting eleven coffins covered with mold and in various states of decay. They were sealed, ascertaining difficulty for grave robbers that the commoners did not have.

“Shall we begin?” Benjamin asked, picking up a long, thin metal rod. Iron, Veronica noticed. He turned and brought the rod down on the lid of one rotting coffin, creating a loud clatter that made Veronica’s teeth set on edge. It worked, as the coffin lid was now shattered, but why do that eleven times?

“Would you gentlemen move out of the way?” Veronica asked, though it was obvious she was not making a request, but rather a demand. She passed by Benjamin and approached the next coffin. Her eyes slipped closed and she removed her gloves, willing her claws to come to the surface.

She knew all eyes were on her as her elegant hands began to change, nails darkening and elongating, appearing to meld into the fingers’ flesh. Where slim fingers rested were now ten long claws resembling a bat.

“Bloody Hell,” George muttered, earning him a slap to the skull from Mahon.

Methodically yet swiftly, Veronica slid her claws along the sealant on the coffin lid, and as she made her way around, she used her Undead strength to pop the loosened lid off with minimal effort and no noise whatsoever.

She turned to the men and said, “Now, wasn’t that, as a whole, simpler and more civilised?”

Vincent smiled at her. “You are, as always, brilliant, my love.”

She opened the next nine easily, and then she did step out of the vault. When they set the bodies on fire, they would first be doused in holy water and salt, and the fumes could possibly choke her. Best to be on the side of caution.

They also prepared for the conflagration, bringing along buckets of water that the men stashed nearby earlier in the afternoon. Within an hour, all eleven corpses were torched and the fire extinguished.

“There,” Vincent said with a smile. “We won’t have ghosts ruin our first Christmas together, my love.”

“What was that about ghosts not bothering us anymore?” Veronica snapped at Vincent a week later. They were at the dinner table, he with a plate of roast pork and she with a warm goblet of fresh-poured blood from a manservant. They only employed two, as Veronica preferred to do most things herself. One was exclusively there to provide blood for her on demand.

The chandelier above the table began to tremble, clinking noisily. The air in the room dropped low enough where she could see her breath coming. And being Undead, that meant it was quite cold, because her body temperature was significantly lower than her husband’s, even after consuming fresh blood.

The chandelier ceased its trembling, and instead began to spin faster and faster than the eye could see. Had Vincent not been so well trained in combat and Veronica wasn’t a vampire, one or both of them would have been crushed under the weight of the crystal as it crashed into the table.

Crystal and glass shattered, as did wood splinters from the table, one particularly sharp one narrowly missing Veronica.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked Vincent. “Banish the bloody thing.”

“I thought we already did!” Vincent cried, getting to his feet.

“Leave her grasp, mortal,” the voice of Eireann Cumberland intoned. He was formless now, but louder than before. Stronger, almost. “Do not fall further into her tempting Darkness.”

“Excuse me, but how is who I marry any of your business?” Veronica asked. “This is not your home anymore. It is mine, and I wish you to begone, now!” Her voice turned to an angry growl as her fangs began to elongate with her rage.

“Unearthly abomination!” Eireann shouted. “Monster! Foul Hellbeast!”

“Didn’t your mummy tell you it’s impolite to call people names?” she asked. Taking a chance, she found an iron chain that detached from the fallen chandelier and tossed it vaguely in the direction from whence the voice came.

There was a scream and then the spirit seemed to leave again. The temperature became much more habitable.

Both Crosses stood up and Veronica huffed. There was a tear in her dress, and it was no longer able to be repaired: the seamstress in Paris passed away about fifty years ago.

“I am so sorry for the vile names he spewed at you,” Vincent said, coming to place a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off. “Now we know what horrors Benjamin and Michael face on a daily basis. Not fun, is it?” Sighing, she went and downed the rest of her goblet of blood.

“We have to find out why the bastard is attached to this house,” Vincent said. “And hope that we do not need to burn the house down completely.”

“I will live with the ghost before I consent to that,” Veronica commented.

Veronica hired some people to make the manor Christmas-ready, and they worked well into the night. The gigantic tree decorated with popcorn strings, glass baubles, and votive candles was beautiful and calming. The star at the top was carved in Paris and special delivered to adorn her first tree with Vincent. With Christmas two days away, she wanted everything to be perfect.

But the ghost was a continuous problem. According to more research from Benjamin, if they did not stop the ghost by Christmas Eve, then he could, and likely would, attack them. And any precaution Vincent could take would not last forever.

They spent every waking hour with their noses in books or searching for something that tied Eireann to the house.

Vincent fell asleep long before the dawn, leaving the vampiress to her own devices. Alone, she worked better and thought better, so she went into the third floor of the manor, one she rarely visited. The rooms were old, dusty, drafty, and the fireplaces barely held any wood. She assumed servants lived there once upon a time.

When you have eternity, you take things such as organising and straightening with grains of salt. Cumberland Manor was filled with things from previous residents, and not once had she cared to go through it. Now, however, she had quite pressing motivations.

Something bound Eireann to the manor, and she needed to find out what before the old bigot killed her and her husband.

Most rooms were empty, some had ageing furniture. One door at the far end of the hall seemed to be stuck, as the skeleton key didn’t turn the lock. Bracing her shoulder against the door, she shoved while holding the knob still. The door gave with a wheezing groan of aged wood.

This room appeared to be a study. A large, cluttered desk sat against the far wall, and bookshelves lined two others. The third door made her shudder: it was filled with instruments of torture, mostly paranormal torture, as they were made of iron and silver. She dared not touch anything, lest lingering holy water somewhere burn her skin.

She noticed a crooked photo hanging on the wall, and she walked closer, wondering what a homicidal, xenophobic cult leader saw fit to hang on his walls.

It was a family portrait with … she paused in her counting. Twelve people. Not eleven.

There was a corpse missing.

“Mrs. Cross?”

The voice nearly made her lose her footing. Then she recalled the workers still downstairs.

“Yes? And it’s Lady Delarue still, thank you.”

“Apologies. You’d requested we check the cellar, for the room Master Cross wants?” The worker’s prematurely balding head peeked around the corner, into the room. If he questioned why it was in such a state of disarray, he knew better than to ask.

Shifters were good like that.

“And?”

“Cellar door’s stuck. Do we have your permission to break it and rebuild it?”

I’ve been down there numerous times, even as recently as this decade. The door works perfectly fine.

“No, let me, and I will wire your office when I am prepared to have you return to see what you can do. Thank you, gentlemen. Happy Christmas.”

He smiled. “Happy Christmas, Lady.”

He walked away, and she glanced at that picture one more time, absorbing the condescending scowl on the face of Eireann Cumberland. She smiled at it, hoping he was observing her.

“Looks like I found your hiding place. You tinkered with the wrong vampire, Mr. Cumberland. I do earnestly hope you enjoy Hell, because I will send you there just as soon as the sun sets.”

Vincent and Veronica stood before the cellar door, and he brought an iron jemmy bar. Both to open the door and hit the spirit with if it tried to intervene. So far, he had rotten luck getting it to open.

“My dear husband, while I do enjoy watching you work and sweat, perhaps you should allow me?” Veronica offered.

Vincent stepped back, embarrassment plain to see in his blue eyes. He handed her the bar. “I feel quite helpless.”

“Nonsense. You’re here to protect me from the big, bad ghost, right?” Veronica winked.

Opening this door took a bit more effort than the caskets in the vault, but she did it within five minutes. The couple descended the staircase, with Vincent lighting a torch so he could see.

The cellar was bare, with a packed dirt floor and hooks on the walls. Veronica never knew what they were used for before she got the manor. One could only imagine, knowing what she knew now about the former occupants.

Vincent began to inspect every corner, but he did not have the preternatural senses of his wife. Veronica spotted a thin line in the hard packed dirt and bent down to inspect further.

“Vincent!”

He turned at her call and bent down behind her, his shadow long in the candlelight.

“Look at this.” She traced the line with her fingertip. “This was disturbed some time ago, compared with the rest of the floor.”

Vincent grinned. “Excellent detective work, my dear. You would fit right in with the hunters, except…”

“I am a woman?”

He shook his head. “You’re not human.”

“Ah. Yes, that would put me in a bit of a pickle, wouldn’t it? Veronica stood up and dusted her dress off. “Let us see what we can find beneath the surface. Go get a shovel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He left with the torch, but Veronica was perfectly capable of seeing. She leaned against a wall and waited, envisioning a beautiful future once she turned her husband, having children to share her family’s ancient bloodline.

She was pregnant, had been for the past week. And she would not let a rotten, hateful old buzzard ruin her joy … or her future.

In her brief daydream, she realised it took an awfully long time for him to go out into the backhouse for the gardening tool. She took a steadying breath, concerned. Vincent was not incompetent, he knew how to manage himself. However … the fear grew and gnawed at her until she raced up the stairs at vampire speed, only to be hit with freezing winds.

The tree was partially knocked over, wreaths blown away. And her poor husband was on the floor, unconscious.

She cursed, a word not typically used by young women or those in high society. “Cumberland!” she cried, rage coating her voice, making the normally pleasant accent sound demonic. “Take your bloody hatred and go away! You are not wanted here, and what you are doing is unwarranted! Get out of my house!”

“No.” The wind knocked her over and she skidded on the icy floor. The scent of Vincent’s blood was intoxicating this close to him; his head bled from an impact wound.

“What you are doing is against nature. You are against nature!”

“So are you, in case you’ve not noticed: you’ve got no physical body!” Veronica reminded him as she struggled to her feet.

The wind howled with his rage, and his body flickered in and out of view.

“Why hurt him if I am the unnatural one?” she asked, trying to buy herself some time to get something to get down to that basement and see if she was right: Eireann Cumberland was buried within the manor.

“He must be punished for crimes against his own humanity. You, however, must die for them,” Cumberland told her.

“Last I checked, you are not God,” Veronica told him. “And when you do cross over, I do not believe He will be so kind to one who pretended to be Him here on Earth.”

“The devil claims to know God?” The spirit laughed.

She gestured to the living room. “Well, I am not decorating to celebrate the birth of a deity I do not believe in.”

It worked. At her gesture, the ghost looked around the destroyed living room, giving her enough time to get to the kitchen and back with a canister of salt. She threw it on the ghost and he screamed, vanishing from sight. For now.

She knew she must work quickly. First, she drizzled some of her blood on Vincent’s wound to heal him, and then dashed to get the shovel. She also grabbed a lighter and the rest of the salt, as well as some kindling.

This was not her area. Not at all. But she knew she was capable of completing this horrible mission so she could have Christmas with her husband. Besides, if someone as hard-headed as the Quinn brothers could do this, she knew she certainly could.

The dirt came up in thick bricks as she dug, her brow coated with sweat and blisters on her fingers that kept trying to heal themselves.

Discomfort was worth the end result.

The shovel hit something hard and she peered down. It wasn’t far, perhaps three feet compared with the average six. And it was a coffin. Engraved on the top was quite the long proclamation.

Eireann Cumberland Sr.,

Interred in Cumberland Manor upon his death so as to always protect his home and humanity from the evils in the world.

“Evil,” Veronica spat. “What do these silly mortal men know of true evil, save for the heinous acts they willingly commit daily?” She spat on the grave before using the shovel to pry it open.

The corpse stared up at her, wispy strands of white hair attached to a yellowing skeleton clad in aristocratic clothing from a century ago.

As she began to pour salt on the body, the house gave a dreadful lurch.

“Veronica!” Vincent shouted, voice hoarse. “He’s back — he’s —”

“Fight him off!” she shouted back. “Don’t let him get down here!” The house shook again, and snow began to billow into the basement, wet, heavy, and hindering.

She screamed from the shock of the cold, and knew it would be difficult to light a fire now. Letting out a few choice curses, she re-salted the body and prayed.

Please, please, don’t let me die like this. Not due to a creature so rotten, so cold. Don’t do this to my baby. Tears stung her eyes; she knew she had to survive, if only for that reason.

“Then fight for her,” a voice said.

“Who on Earth?” Veronica saw no one, and it was not a voice she recognised.

“Protect the child, we need her.”

Her?

The snow began to slow, dancing in a whirl of white light. Veronica could barely look at it. The brightness burnt her eyes.

Books spoke of Christmas miracles, but dare she believe she was on the receiving end of one?

Veronica was many things, but stupid was not one of them. She knew that she had precious little time to work if whatever this was kept the snow at bay. Emptying the canister of salt on the corpse, she lit the flame, set the box of matches ablaze, and dropped the whole thing on the rotted body below.

The scream that followed caused the dirt to dislocate and silt to fall from the ceiling onto her head. Eireann was in pain.

Good; suffer.

The shaking ceased, the snow stopped, and the dancing whorls of light vanished without a trace.

Veronica stood next to the flaming bones and hugged her middle, unable to do anything but gasp for breath as relief poured through her.

“So, you think that was what? Some kinda angel, like in the Bible?” George asked her two days later at the Christmas Eve gathering she and Vincent hosted.

She nodded. “There is no other explanation.”

Vincent nodded as well. “I am inclined to agree. I am, however, shocked that angels do exist.”

Benjamin and Mahon both agreed with that. “Demons? Sure. Evil is easy to believe in. Good, not so much,” Benjamin commented.

Veronica placed a hand on her stomach, which had yet to grow at all. “The angels wanted this little one here, that is certain.”

Michael nudged Vincent playfully. “How’s it feel, mate?”

Vincent smiled widely. “Like the best Christmas present ever. They said ‘she’? Truly?”

Veronica nodded, love and joy welling up inside of her. “And I know exactly what we’re going to name her.”

“What would that be?”

“Angelica, after our helpful Christmas angel.”

The End

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can read more about baby Angelica in the latest standalone novel, Vampire Blood and Iron Bullets!

About the Author

Lily Luchesi is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series. She is also the co-owner of Partners in Crime Book Services, where she offers a myriad of services alongside her business partner Annie Smith, including editing.

She was born in Chicago, Illinois, where many of her stories are set. Ever since she was a toddler, her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is also an out member of the LGBT+ community.

When she's not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading comics. And drinking copious amounts of coffee.

She also writes contemporary books for adults as Samantha Calcott.

You can also sign up for Lily’s general newsletter here, and receive a free ebook.

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The Paranormal Detectives Series

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Lily Luchesi writing as Samantha Calcott

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Frolicking in the Snow

Elvira Bathory

About Frolicking in the Snow

Have you ever wondered what happens behind the scenes at the North Pole before Christmas? Holly and Sage are willing to share some reindeer secrets that have never been disclosed before but only on one condition. That condition being you can’t tell anyone, especially not your children, what you are about to find out. If you agree to this condition, then please feel free to follow them on their adventure through the North Pole.

Frolicking in the Snow

You know Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen. No, this isn’t the Rudolph song, but a behind scenes look at the North Pole during the Christmas season. Some insight into how Santa prepares for his legendary ride all over the world delivering his gifts to the good little girls and boys. Why are you looking at me like I have suddenly started speaking another language? Let me tell you, this story isn’t for the faint of heart, and it certainly isn’t for the kiddies that look up to the fat man. I’ll wait until you put little Timmy to bed and then I will clue you in on what happens on the night before Christmas Eve before Santa leaves the North Pole.

We’re all aware that Christmas magick exists, otherwise how else could Santa fly around the world in his sleigh with his nine reindeer pulling at the helm? But, did you know that the jolly, old, fat man uses that very same magick to let all of his reindeer, not just the ones who pull his sleigh around, roam in their human forms the night before Christmas Eve? There’s no need to clean out your ears because you heard me right, I said human forms. That’s right, my lovelies, Santa’s reindeer are shifters, and for one night a year they are allowed to experience life as a human. This is just one of the things we aren’t told as children. Are you prepared to join in on their reindeer games?

All of the reindeer looked forward to the night of December twenty-third when they were allowed to stretch their human legs and have fun, not having to stress over carrying the fat man around the world. It’s not that they didn’t enjoy their jobs on Christmas Eve, and they absolutely adored their boss and his elves, but they all eagerly waited for the night before business had to be done so they could be human. That one night a year Santa would grace them with the magick to take their human shapes and allow them to dine on whatever pleasure they found. Most of the shifters chose to take their time with opposable thumbs to help the elves finish up their last-minute work or play games with the pointy eared folk. Some of the reindeer would even help Santa’s little helpers set up for the next year’s Christmas, hoping to lighten the little people’s load. But there were two shifters who wondered if they had been experiencing everything there was to offer as a human.

Holly and Sage were reindeer in training and had decided the year before to sneak off to meet in the woods outside of Santa’s workshop. They wanted to explore each other and the wonders of the human flesh without the chance of any interruption. They had chosen a spot not too far from the workshop, but not really close either, and stashed some things they wanted to use in their fun and games the year before. As the night before Christmas Eve approached, the anticipation seemed to vibrate through the air. The reindeer pranced around in their excitement as Santa made his way through the barn, touching each one as he passed. The magick enveloped their bodies and the shifting process began.

Santa tried his best to make it a comfortable experience with very little pain, but he couldn’t always make any guarantees. He had been perfecting the art of making the reindeer shifting process a lot smoother over the last two or three years, since he had lost one of his loyal shifters when they got stuck between human and animal, and he felt that he really had it this year. Santa had noticed the year before that some of the reindeer had seemed uncomfortable being naked after the change, so he added a little extra touch to the magick. When Santa finally approached Holly and Sage, they were so excited with the prospect of being human they could barely stand still long enough for him to touch them and let the magick wrap around their animal bodies. While the shifting process began, they both waited until the rest of their colleagues had finished transforming and made sure they had followed the boss man out of the barn. The two stretched their newly found human bodies and gazed across the aisle, drinking in the sight of each other standing on two legs in their new pink flesh.

Standing at five foot four inches, Holly had an athletic build with wavy red hair and beautiful blue eyes. Sage was slightly taller, standing at a mere five foot seven inches and had a muscular build with sandy brown hair and striking green eyes.

Sage cleared his throat, “Do you think everyone has gone inside the workshop by now?”

Holly crept to the entrance of the stables and stuck her head out.

Looking both ways she saw nothing and nobody, “It would appear that way, but I think we should stick to our original plan. You go to the spot we agreed on and I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes.”

Sage gave her a crooked grin and nodded his agreement, reluctantly leaving the stables, not really wanting to leave Holly behind. Holly leaned back against the wall by the entrance to the barn, trying to strengthen her suddenly weak knees and her stomach feeling like it housed a million butterflies. She couldn’t remember a time where she’d felt so nervous. She pushed away from the wall and stepped out of the stables, needing to walk around so that she could calm her nerves.

It can’t hurt to make an appearance inside the workshop for a few minutes. Might help take any suspicion off of Sage’s disappearance, Holly thought as she made her way in that direction through the light dusting of snow.

Sage arrived at the predetermined spot, hoping that he and Holly were right, and this was something they would enjoy. They knew that Santa and Mrs. Claus, even some of the elves, enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh, but what Sage didn’t understand was why none of the other reindeer seemed curious enough to try it. Of course, he couldn’t be sure that his fellow shifters hadn’t because the only one he had discussed any of this with had been Holly.

Looking around their spot by the barren tree about a mile away from the workshop, Sage scanned the area to make sure he hadn’t been followed by some curious elf or reindeer. Satisfied that he was alone he started searching for the items he and Holly had hidden. Sage located the blanket first and laid it out over the densest part of the snow. There was a light snow falling and he knew that the blanket wouldn’t be safe from the gathering cold white flakes, but he hoped that Holly would be on time and that their plans would keep them warm. He continued his search and found a basket containing the rest of their supplies, including some water and a bottle of baby oil. He smiled deviously as he thought of all the delightful things he was going to be able to do. Everything he wanted to try; from the time he was old enough to shift until that very night was finally within reach. The thought of doing these things with any of the other female shifters had never occurred to him. From the moment Sage saw her, he knew that the only woman for him was Holly and always would be, in either form.

The excitement and anticipation was killing him, causing his heart to race and his palms to sweat. His erection grew so hard it almost hurt as he thought of the woman of his dreams lying beneath him. Glancing around, he picked up the bottle of baby oil, setting it within easy reach and stripped out of his suddenly too tight jeans to give his cock some room. The sudden cold against his warm skin caused his erection to wane a little until he imagined Holly standing in front of him in all of her naked glory, the heated look in her eyes and sinful smile upon her lips that she saved only for him. He thought of her perky nipples hardening in the cold, and how much he wanted to roll his tongue around them, causing her to moan in pleasure. Just that image in his mind was enough to get his cock rigid again and he reached for the bottle of baby oil. Dribbling a little of the cold liquid in his hand he cupped his erection, rubbing the slick stuff slowly in. The minute his hand touched that part of his body, he moaned deep in his throat. The feeling of his semi-rough hand caressing the silky skin of his cock was almost too good to stop. But stop is what he did. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was most definitely sure it was something he had never felt or experienced before.

Sage looked around, cock still in hand, trying to remember if he and his girl had thought to bring another blanket and saw it under the nearest bush. He made his way over to the greenery turned white with the snow, pulled out the sought item, and wrapped it around his shoulders letting his mind wander to thoughts of Holly once more. He reached down and took his cock in his hand again, moving it slowly up and down, squeezing slightly to add more friction. His eyes closed and his breath was coming in pants as he felt a pressure begin to build and he threw his head back in his pleasure.

Holly arrived at the workshop as the Christmas party was starting. It seemed that all of the elves had gotten their work finished ahead of schedule this year and made the time to celebrate. She was trying to make her way to a corner, just to show that she’d made an appearance before sneaking off to meet with Sage when her best friend, a female elf by the name of Merry, called her name.

Merry approached her with a smile and took hold of Holly’s arm, “I’m so glad you were able to make it to the first annual Santa’s Workshop Christmas Party, hosted by moi.”

Holly returned her friend’s smile, “I wouldn’t have missed this for all of the jingle bells in the world. It looks like everyone is having a great time. Between you and me, did you spike the eggnog?’

Merry laughed as Holly looked around the workshop, trying to make it look like she was taking in the party atmosphere and raked her brain for an excuse that would seem believable about why she needed to leave almost as soon as she had gotten there.

Two rowdy males, an elf and a shifter, being too rambunctious with some of this year’s presents that hadn’t made it onto Santa’s sleigh yet, caught her eye and she nodded her head in their direction, “You might want to go and check that out before it gets too much worse.”

Merry turned in the direction Holly had indicated and gasped, “Oh no! That has disaster written all over it! I have to go take care of this but thank you so much for coming.”

The pretty elf let go of Holly and hurried off in the direction of the two men who had decided it would be a good idea to play catch with a snow globe.

The female shifter exhaled and glanced around the workshop, making sure that no one else was paying any attention to her actions or heading in her direction for a visit, before she inched her way to the exit. She needed to take the opportunity to leave before someone else noticed that she had arrived and decided to talk to her. She was already five minutes late getting into the woods.

With those butterflies she had yet to calm trying to escape the confines of her stomach, she rushed out of the back door and practically ran towards the barren tree a mile away. As she got closer, she heard moaning. Curious as to what could be making that noise, she crept around the tree to investigate.

What she found when she rounded the tree had her stopping short with her eyes wide. Sage was lying on the blanket, another one around his shoulders, with his cock in his hand and his head thrown back. Holly felt herself getting damp as she watched the man she’d been craving for the last few years pleasuring himself. She felt a little weird just standing there and watching him, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight in front of her and she didn’t want to make any sound for fear of interrupting him, she wanted to see how far he was willing to go. She’d chosen to take her one night as a human the year before to do some research into having sex so she knew that some men didn’t like to be watched when they were stroking themselves, which she found odd but to each their own, and she couldn’t be sure that Sage wasn’t one of them. When he called her name when he ejaculated Holly was so surprised that she whispered his, startling him before his orgasm ended and had him hurrying to cover himself.

Holly wanted to comfort Sage, but she was just as tentative about the situation as he was and didn’t want to make things any more awkward than she already had. She held onto the barren tree until her legs quit shaking and her embarrassment subsided a little, and then made her way to the blanket and the muscular shifter lying on it. She stopped right next to the only man she wanted to have sex with and took in the view of Sage in his nudity with his cock still standing at attention, then knelt between his legs. Holly reached out a shaky hand and nervously replaced his, slowly stroking him.

The blanket tangled around Sage’s legs in his hurry to cover himself. His face turned so red in his embarrassment that he could have taken Rudolph’s place at the front of Santa’s sleigh, but he couldn’t deny the hungry look in Holly’s eyes as she slowly stalked towards him. He watched as Holly made slow progress toward him, his cock still hard and twitching as he tried to disentangle himself.

As she replaced his hand with a shaky one of her own, she asked, “Did that feel as good as it looked?”

Sage had finally gotten himself untangled from the blanket and looked into Holly’s eyes as he nodded, still a little embarrassed to have been caught by the woman he had been daydreaming about.

She smiled at him dreamily as she slowly moved her hand up on his cock, stopping just under the mushroom head. He watched Holly in surprise and fascination as her hand gripped his cock a little tighter and began to move faster in her growing confidence, her skin so much softer than his. She moved a little faster when she heard his breath catch and saw his head fall back. Sage struggled to keep his orgasm at bay as he felt the pressure building in his balls once more.

He knew that he wouldn’t hold out much longer, so he placed his hand on Holly’s stilling her movements, “I want to be buried deep inside of you when I cum again.”

Holly’s smile turned sinful as her desire grew making her feel more confident in her seductive skills. Releasing her grip on his cock, she took her shirt off. After tossing the garment aside, she stood and unbuttoned her jeans. When she saw that she had Sage’s full attention, she slowly slid the zipper down, taking her time and drawing out the moment. His gaze followed her as she slipped out of her pants, whipping her panties off shortly after.

“You want to be inside me when you cum this time? Is that what you said?” Holly asked Sage as she pushed him onto his back on the blanket and straddled him, with the snow falling softly around them.

Neither shifter took notice of the cold or the white flakes that were drifting down, covering their naked bodies and the blanket they were on top of as Sage nodded his head, staring at the most beautiful vision he had ever laid eyes upon. She slid herself onto his cock, taking her time making sure he filled her inch by inch, trying to lessen the pain that she had first felt when he entered her. Together they found a rhythm and slowly made their way to the cliff of pleasure they both were seeking to fall off with all of their beings.

Sage met Holly thrust for thrust as she slid herself almost completely off him, only to plunge back down. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy lifting herself off of him until just the very tip of his cock was inside her, keeping her body suspended above his like that for few moments and then slamming herself back down. Again, and again, she repeated this action until her movements became uneven and her breath was coming in short gasps.

He found it sexy as hell to watch Holly’s breasts bounce each time she raised herself off and slammed back down onto him. Her body had taken on a slight flush from the sex as well as the cold, and her skin had a slight sheen from sweat that caused the snowflakes to melt almost instantly when they landed on her. Sage soon found that he was barely clinging to his control when he heard Holly’s breaths coming in pants. He could feel that she was as close as he to going over the edge and he wanted to make sure they both fell over at the same time.

They began to rock and move faster, Sage going deeper into Holly each time their bodies met until they both flew off the edge they had been flying towards. As they both reached their peak and their orgasms took complete control, they cried out in unison. Each screaming the other’s name in ecstasy.

Holly collapsed on top of Sage and he held her to him, wrapping the discarded blanket around the both of them as they waited for their breathing to return to normal.

She looked up into his eyes, with a soft smile on her lips, “Now that’s the way to celebrate Christmas. I don’t understand why the other reindeer haven’t tried this.”

He ran his hand down her left cheek and returned her smile, “We don’t know for sure that they haven’t. And I would say that our celebration is just beginning. I mean, we do have all night and there is so much for us to try before we go back. I’m sure no one is missing us. You said that Merry was hosting a Christmas party in the workshop, right?”

Holly leaned her cheek into his hand, her smile widening, “She is. Are you sure you don’t want to pop in and see how everything is going? I’m sure she would love to see you.”

Sage shook his head, “Nope, I’m quite happy right where I am. And what makes you think Merry would love to see me? You are her best friend. I barely talk to her.”

She gave him a glare, “Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that Merry thinks you’re hot! I mean, everyone knows how that elf feels about you. And she just broke up with Frost last month, hoping that you would notice her this year.”

He gave her a knowing smile, “Oh, you mean the little crush she has on me? Of course I’ve noticed that. But, Holly, there is only one woman that I want to be with. And that woman is you. Don’t you know that by now?”

Holly ducked her head, feeling the blush as it took over her face, “Is that so? Then maybe we should get back to exploring our human selves. What do you think?”

She reached up, guiding his head down until their lips met, kissing him deeply. Then without warning, she broke off the kiss and stood.

Sage blinked and watched as Holly made her way to the basket still sitting under the busy, taking in her human form, the way her breasts bounced as she walked and how tight her ass was. She took out two bottles of water that were still stashed there, opening one and taking a long sip. She capped her bottle and threw the other one to Sage, her breasts swaying with the toss. It fell next to him and Holly laughed.

Sage blinked, his focus traveling away from her breasts to her face at her outburst, “What’s so funny?”

Holly just shook her head and took another drink of her water. Sage watched her like she was the last woman on Earth, causing her to become a bit self-conscious. She’d never really thought about how she looked or fit in with the rest of the North Pole while she was in human form before. Well, not until Sage started looking at her like he did, making her wonder what made her so different from the rest of the females at the workshop in his mind.

She laughed again, “You want to know what’s so funny, Sage? You are with the way you were staring at my breasts while I tossed you that bottle of water. You were so distracted by them that you let the bottle just fall right next to you instead of even trying to catch it. You act like you’re never going to get to touch them again before the night is through.”

She caressed her breasts as if offering them to Sage, causing him to stand and join her by the basket. He moved Holly’s hands away from her breasts, gripping both wrists with one hand while the other one grabbed her left breast as he lowered his head to run his tongue over the tightening nipple. Holly arched her back into his touch as he took her nipple into his mouth and began to suck, still rolling his tongue around the tight bud. Sage could taste the salt from the sweat still glistening on her skin, smell the pine needles on the trees surrounding them, and felt his cock becoming rigid once again. He wasn’t sure what it was about this female shifter, but he knew that he couldn’t get enough of her; that he wanted this one night to last forever. No matter what happened in the future, Sage knew that he would never get Holly out of his system.

He slid his hand down her right side, causing goose flesh to rise on her skin and a moan to escape her throat. He moved his way over to the other breast, giving it the same attention as he had its twin, while rubbing the inside of her right thigh, creeping his way up to her warm pussy. He could feel the heat as he moved his hand over the promised area, just barely grazing it. Once Sage had made Holly a quivering mess that could barely stand on her own two feet without help, he kissed his way down the front of her body while holding her steady with an arm around her waist, urging her to spread her legs further to accommodate his upper body.

Her legs started to shake, and Holly knew that she wouldn’t be able to stand much longer, with or without Sage’s help.

She ran her fingers through his hair pulling it slightly to get his attention, “Sage, we really need to move this back to the blanket so that I can lie down of my accord instead of falling because my legs gave way.”

Holly’s voice was huskier than Sage had ever heard it before and he felt his cock twitch at the sound, “Oh! Of course, of course. Do you want me to help you or do you think you can make it on your own? Because I really want to taste you, Holly, and I plan on taking my time doing it. I want you to be writhing and begging me to stop before I do.”

She had been slowly making her way over to the blanket; trying to put on a brave front when he told her that and she felt her knees give way. Sage caught her before she hit the snow-covered ground and carried her over to their destination. He laid her gently on the soft fabric and stepped back, blinking as he took in the sight of this wonderful woman stretched out in front of him, her nipples still taunt from the attention he had lavished on them. Sage knelt down beside Holly, running his hands along the length of her body, making the goose flesh return and at last slid his body on top of hers. He gave her a deep kiss, their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. Reluctantly breaking away from her mouth, Sage turned his kisses to the rest of her body, once again kissing down the front to get to her dripping pussy.

Holly stifled the moan she felt at the back of her throat, waiting for what Sage had promised her. As he ran his hands over her body, she couldn’t stop writhing in the pleasure that was enveloping her body as he captured her mouth with his own. By the time he moved the kiss from her mouth to her neck, she was breathless and relishing in the fact that he was causing her body to shiver in anticipation of what was to come. She loved the fact that he could entice goose flesh upon her body, and her juices were flowing freely as he explored her body with his lips. Her breath caught in her throat as he kissed her inner thigh and blew on her moist, warm opening. Sage paused at the apex of her legs and pushed them further apart, trying to make room for his upper body while keeping her comfortable. Holly felt her pussy clench in anticipation as he looked at her through the triangle of her legs, grinning as he licked his lips, looking like the big bad wolf finally getting his meal.

He held her gaze as he flicked his tongue over her clit, causing her to jump. Her breath became pants with his teasing of her most private part of her body, and she felt the button throbbing almost to the point of pain, causing her to squirm trying to relieve some of the tension that was building in her. When Sage decided to devour her with abandon, slurping noises becoming an erotic background to the orgasm she could feel building to a crescendo.

Holly felt herself getting close to the edge, screaming Sage’s name to the heavens not caring if anybody could hear them. All of her fears of being caught with him, of being discovered enjoying the flesh the way she heard of others having done. Holly pulled Sage’s hair, begging him to stop; that she couldn’t take any more. She found she had pulled his head away from her drenching pussy and had crab-crawled further up the blanket in her need to get away from the overwhelming sensations and catch her breath.

He smiled at her, the lower half of his face glistening with her fluids. She knew that she was falling in love with him, had been for the last three years but she wasn’t willing to admit it to herself until that moment. Holly pulled him up her body, enjoying the feel of his skin sliding along hers as she tried to find a way to tell the shifter how she was feeling but afraid of rejection. Claiming his mouth, she lifted her hips off the blanket offering no resistance as he slid his rock-hard cock deep inside of her.

As soon as Sage was sheathed inside of Holly, they both stopped, enjoying the feel of their bodies being married in the most primal of ways. He moved his hips slightly, wrenching a moan from her lips. Her moans turned into cries of pleasure that quickly became screams of ecstasy as he lunged, deeper, faster, into her. She lost herself in the moment, focusing only on the way Sage was plunging his cock deep inside of her over and over again. She was so close to another orgasm that she cried out in frustration when he suddenly stopped. Sage pulled out so fast Holly could have sworn she heard a pop, gave her a wink and turned her onto her stomach.

“On your hands and knees, Holly,” he demanded heatedly.

She did what he told her, and looked back at him over her shoulder, shuddering at the heated look in his eyes as he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises on the human skin and slammed his cock back inside of her so hard that her teeth almost rattled. Soon Holly forgot everything except the sensation of his cock, moving in and out of her pussy like a piston and reaching the peak at the same time Sage did.

When his rhythm broke, she knew that he was as close as she was and picked up her own pace, meeting his thrusts with her own. She moved her hand between her legs, flicking her clit a few times to bring her climax that much closer, then she slid that wet finger up and down her partner’s balls to tip him over the edge a few seconds before herself. As she milked every last drop of cum from him, she continued to caress his balls, wanting to make sure he was emptied, at least for the moment. When he was spent, he withdrew his cock and collapsed next to her on the blanket. Holly’s legs gave out seconds later and she turned so her head was lying on his chest and they cuddled for a few minutes in silence.

Sage gazed down at her and she snuggled closer to him, “I think it just gets better every time we do it.”

“I agree. We need to do this as often as possible before the day is over,” Holly agreed as she looked up at him in adoration.

“As often as possible, huh? Well I think that can be arranged,” Sage gave her a sly smile as he cupped her left breast, causing the nipple to harden immediately.

“My, my what stamina you have,” she giggled as she squirmed out of his grasp.

Holly pushed into a sitting position with her hand on Sage’s chest and a wicked grin on her lips, “Now it’s my turn to give you some of the pleasure you’ve given me. You just lay back and enjoy yourself.”

It was her turn to trail kisses down his body, letting out little breaths on his heated flesh to see that she could entice goose bumps to rise on his skin too.

She smiled in delight as she noticed his cock come alive once more, “You really do have some serious stamina, don’t you? Which is great for me. Just saying.”

Holly held Sage’s gaze as she knelt between his legs, gripping his cock in her right hand and licked her lips, “Now I get to taste you. Do you think you can handle it?”

He could only nod his head and hold his breath in anticipation. This was more than Sage could have imagined. Not knowing what caused Holly to become so brazen, he decided that he wasn’t going to argue with the woman holding tightly to his cock and lay back watching as she moved closer to his cock eagerly. She smiled when it twitched and licked up his shaft, not yet taking the erection into her mouth.

Holly was feeling decidedly sexy when she rolled her tongue around the head of his cock, causing it to twitch again. With a small smile, she slowly lowered her mouth taking as much of his length as she could manage. She stopped, just caressing the shaft with the tongue without moving her head. When Sage’s breath caught with that small action, Holly became braver and started moving her mouth up and down in slow motion, loving the power she seemed to have over the man lying on the ground. She pulled her mouth away when the tip of her tongue connected with a drop of something salty. Holly’s research told her something like this might happen when her partner was extremely aroused, but she still hadn’t been expecting it. She licked the tip of his cock again, coming away with more of the salty liquid.

Sage placed his hand on the back of Holly’s head, urging her to return to her ministrations. He was so close to cumming again that it was almost painful, and he wanted to fulfill her wish to taste him.

“Don’t stop, Holly. I’m right there,” he moaned while running his fingers through her long red hair, encouraging her to move faster.

She followed his encouragement until the salty fluid was flowing faster. Holly took Sage’s balls into her right hand massaging them as she wrapped her left hand around the base of his cock and moved it up and down along with her mouth. She felt his balls tighten, heard him cry out her name, and barely had enough time to slide her mouth all the way down his shaft until the head tickled the back of her throat before he let go. She swallowed as fast as she could, trying to get every drop down her throat.

Sage pulled Holly’s hair until her mouth slid off his cock and pulled her up to kiss her.

“That was intense,” he said while trying to catch his breath.

Holly smiled, “You’re telling me. I was afraid you were going to be dripping out the sides of my mouth while I tried to keep up with the flow.”

Sage pulled her body alongside his, running his hands lightly down her side, “Do you think you can handle me inside you again? I have to have you underneath me, right this second.”

She pulled away slightly, “I’m positive that I can handle going another round with you, but unfortunately it’s time to head back to the workshop. We’ve spent hours here in the snow, enjoying each other’s bodies, but you need to make an appearance at the Christmas party, and I need to get back before Merry discovers I’m missing. By the looks of the sun, it’s almost time for Santa to turn us back to our animal selves anyway.”

Holly gave him a devious smile as she stood and started gathering their clothing and items.

“Aw, do we really have to go back? We were having so much fun and I’m sure there’s more for us to do. Don’t you think?” Sage asked as he took in her naked body once more before they got dressed to return to their animal lives.

Sage finished dressing and moved towards Holly, trying to convince her to stay a little longer in their little hideaway on his mind, “Come on, Holly. Just another hour? Please?”

He nuzzled her neck and moved slowly lower, leaving little kisses and tiny nips along the way.

Holly giggled and pulled away, “Stop it, Sage. We don’t have an hour. Now get dressed so that we can get back to the workshop, you can make your appearance at the Christmas party and I can pretend I never left. If we show up together, you know I’m going to have a lot of questions from Merry that I’m going to have to answer before Santa turns us back.”

Sage sighed and let her go, moving back to the blanket while she went back to packing up their basket.

He picked it up and shook the snow off, beginning to fold it while looking for the second blanket.

Holly approached him with the item in hand, “Looking for this?”

Sage nodded and handed her the folded blanket, taking the open one from her and started to fold it, “I suppose you’re right. We really should show at the Christmas party before change time. It’s definitely better than the alternative; Santa, Mrs. Claus, the elves or any of the other reindeer searching for us and then trying to join in on our games.”

They placed both blankets into the basket, Holly choosing to carry it, and then headed in the direction of the workshop holding hands. It was only a matter of time before the whole of the North Pole discovered they were together and the two had decided early on that it would be better if they chose the when and how. When the shop came into view, Holly’s butterflies returned to their roost in her stomach. She knew that her best friend was bound to be disappointed, and maybe a little pissed off, with the fact that Sage was only interested in the female shifter and not the pretty little elf, but Holly was prepared to do a little damage control to keep her friendship. She only hoped that Merry would decide that their friendship was more important than a roll in the snow with a sexy male shifter and would be happy for her.

Holly reached out to the doorknob to the Santa’s Workshop when suddenly the door opened, the light shining on the couple as one of the elf’s came stumbled out into the snow, “I’m fine, Merry! Stop fussing over me.”

Merry came rushing out the door after the male, “I’m not fussing over you, you dolt! I just want to make sure none of the reindeer get hurt before having to return to their animal selves. And with you being as drunk on the egg nog as you are, I’m afraid you might have hurt Thistle. Don’t make me call Santa to inspect her.”

The perky little elf stopped short when she saw Holly and Sage standing on the front porch holding hands. Her eyes darted from the clasped hands to her best friend’s face, taking in the rosy cheeks and the guilty stare. Holly watched as the realization of the situation dawned on the elf and the red flared from her neck into the tips of her pointy ears.

“So that’s where you ran off to. I was beginning to think that you were bored,” Merry said with a forced laugh.

Holly dropped Sage’s hand, indicating with a tilt of her head that he should head inside and partake in the festivities, “Of course I wasn’t bored! Look, is there enough time for the two of us to talk before Jolly Old Saint Nick turns us reindeer back into our animal forms?”

The elf looked over her shoulder, as if trying to gather her thoughts, “I’m not sure, let’s go check the time. Because you know how much I am dying to find out about you and Sage.”

Merry turned on her heel and headed into the shop were the male shifter had disappeared, Holly on her heels. The female shifter wanted to clear the air before she had to return to living on four legs because she couldn’t imagine having to wait a full year to explain to her best friend about the situation with Sage. Both women looked at the clock hanging on the wall, noting that the shifters had fifteen minutes before they were expected to be in the barn to meet Santa.

“Come with me. I know where we can go for some privacy so we can talk,” Merry stated as she moved up the stairs.

Holly followed, hoping that the perky little elf was as forgiving as she led everyone to believe and their friendship was tighter than some guy.

Merry stopped and pushed open a door on the left of a long hallway.

Sweeping her right hand in front of her, she stepped back, “After you. And this had better be good.”

Holly took a deep breath and then crossed the threshold, “That depends on what your definition of good is.”

Merry closed the door behind them and sighed, “Holly, had I known you were into Sage I never would have come on to him. God! You guys were just laughing about my crush behind my back, weren’t you?”

The shifter walked to her best friend and placed her hands on her shoulders, “Of course not! Sage wasn’t even aware of your crush until this year, I promise. As for my being into him, I wasn’t aware that I was attracted to him until last year, when I saw him standing across the barn in his naked splendor.”

The elf moved out of her friend’s grasp, her head hanging slightly, “So? Tell me everything then.”

Holly walked to one of the overstuffed chairs and had a seat, “It was amazing, Mer! I never knew how pleasurable sex could be, but I have absolutely no regrets about what experimentation he and I had tonight. I only wish we had more time for exploration before we get back to being deer.”

Merry smiled softly, “Yes sex is amazing, with the right partner and it certainly sounds like you’ve found your mate.”

The elf suddenly jumped to her feet, all woes forgotten, “I have an idea! Why don’t we go talk to Santa and see if he will give you his blessing to get married? That way you can be together even when you are in your reindeer forms!”

Holly’s eyes were shining as she leapt to her feet, “That’s a fantastic idea, Mer! Let’s go talk to him now.”

The girls rushed out of the room and ran down the stairs intent on finding Santa before the midnight hour.

“Why are the reindeer heading to the barn already? Is it time?” Holly wondered aloud as they slowed their pace.

Merry shrugged, “I don’t think so. But I guess we’re about to find out. Oh my gosh, I hope we aren’t too late! I would really hate for you to have wait another year to be married to your mate.”

Thoughts of having to wait another full year to be with Sage filled Holly’s head, and she couldn’t bear the thought. As the shifter and elf came into the barn, they noticed that the shifters were already beginning to take their places in their stables. Holly nodded at Flash, who had been appointed to be one of the reindeer leading Santa’s sleigh this year. He had been informed by the jolly fat man that he was going to be taking his father’s place at the head of the sleigh. Rudolph had chosen that year to finally retire because he felt his son was ready to take on the legacy.

Holly was genuinely excited for him. She couldn’t wait to take to the sky and lead the sleigh, but she wasn’t ready for that just yet. Merry tugged on her hand, pulling her out of her jumbled thoughts. The elf pointed down the line of stables to Sage’s, showing the shifter that her lover was already where he needed to be, waiting for Santa to arrive and turn him back into his animal form.

“Santa isn’t here yet, Mer. But I think I need to head to my stable and wait for him to arrive. Will you talk to him for me? See if he will give us his blessing to perform the mating ceremony?” Holly asked as she walked slowly to her stable across from Sage.

The elf nodded, walking with her friend to her home, “Absolutely, Holly!”

The clearing of a throat brought everyone’s attention to the entrance to the barn, showing Santa’s shadow, “Well, well, well. It looks like we are missing Frost and Icicle. Does anyone know where the two of them might be?”

“They were in the woods behind the workshop last time I saw them, Santa,” Flash stated, his voice booming throughout the barn.

As he mentioned where they had been, the two shifters in question came running into the barn looking flustered. Santa smiled at the late comers, waiting patiently for them to get into their stables.

“Ah, now that we have everyone here, we can begin. It is time to return to your animal forms and I understand that a year is a long time not to be able to stretch your legs and be human. But I have an announcement concerning this. Mrs. Claus and I have been talking and have decided to extend your time in your human forms to include Christmas Eve. Of course, nine of you would need to be exempt from this because you will be helping me deliver gifts to the good little girls and boys in the world but starting this year we will be rotating the nine reindeer. Every year will be a new set of nine. This year’s nine will be Flash, Icicle, Frost, Nutmeg, Cinnamon, Ivy, Kringle, Midnight, and, last but certainly not least, Bell.”

All of the reindeer cheered, excited to finally be able to fly in the night sky. Sure, it was a huge responsibility to ensure that Santa made it around the world in one night and to keep him safe, but it was one they had all been training for since they could walk.

Santa held his hand up, waiting until the last cheer died down, “I have another announcement that I would like to make. We will be having a mating ceremony when I get back from my yearly run. I know, I know, it’s been a long time since we have been able to perform one of those, but this year is very special. Two of my dear shifters have discovered each other and the fact that they have been matched to be mates since birth. Besides, we need to start bringing some young ones into the fold.”

Santa stepped into the barn, a knowing smile on his face as he walked down the aisle of stables, “Holly and Sage, are you ready to be mated?”

Holly gave Merry a shocked look before turning to look at the shifter standing across from her.

“I am!” Sage shouted, tripping over himself to get to his mate.

Holly laughed, looking up at her mate, ready to start the life she was meant to live.

A Very Changeling Christmas

Featuring Luna and the Pack

Samantha Bell

About A Very Changeling Christmas

“When you grow up being shipped from foster home to foster home, Christmas doesn’t exactly make you feel warm and fuzzy.”

Luna is a Changeling with a difficult past who found love with her four shifter mates. Together she, Seth, Maddox, Chase, and Jasper make up a unique pack with dreams of helping other lost shifters in need.

When an empty house and the impending holiday season bring back painful feelings for Luna, Chase decides to give her a Christmas she’ll never forget and prove to her that holidays can be joyous if you’re willing to open your heart.

A Very Changeling Christmas features characters from Crooked Changeling but can be enjoyed independently from the main series.

Chapter 1

Luna

The world outside looked like a scene from a Hallmark Christmas movie. (Not that I ever watched those trashy things, I swear…Ok, maybe once or twice, anyway.)

The snow was thick and fluffy, covering everything in sight. The forest in the distance was veiled in thick sheets of snow, the evergreens rising high and creating a stark contrast compared to the flat farmland around them. The roads hadn’t been plowed and probably wouldn’t be for a while. Good thing Jasper had an SUV, or we’d be stuck here until Spring.

Not that being snowed in with my pack of delicious men would be a bad thing. We’d been together for a few months now, and we were still obsessed with each other’s bodies. We were like hormone-drunk teenagers, except with the experience to actually be good at what we were doing.

I looked over my shoulder at the two double beds we’d moved together to make one big mega-bed. Jasper, the timber wolf shifter, Seth, the alpha jackal shifter, and Chase the coyote shifter, were all still asleep. My fourth mate, Maddox, the red wolf shifter, was probably out for a morning workout in the shed out in the back. Even after a snowstorm, he was up at five a.m. sharp.

I shivered and pulled on a cardigan over my pajamas. I was no morning person, but I was starting to work myself into a better sleep schedule. When I used to live on the streets, I stole shuteye whenever it was safe to do so. Now everything was different. Life was so much better now that I’d found my pack.

I padded downstairs quietly so as to not wake my men.

“Good morning!”

I heard Maddox before I saw him. He was blending some sort of protein shake that looked far too green for my taste. “Hey,” I said, sitting down at the kitchen table, trying to ignore how the wood was close against my butt.

“Sleep well?” Maddox asked with a grin that made his eyes sparkle. His red hair was touseled and still damp with sweat. He slid a cup of coffee over to me.

“Fine, once you let me sleep.” I took a sip of coffee.

Maddox smirked. “You love it,” he said.

“I do. I so do,” I said, remembering the toe-curling orgasms that seemed to be in never-ending supply these days. The coffee warmed me through, chasing away the shivers that had followed me since I got out of bed.

I tipped my head to the window. “You didn’t go out in that, did you?” I asked, meaning the waist-high snowdrifts that settled around the old farmhouse we’d taken over.

Maddox shook his head. “Nah, even I’m not that crazy. Just an hour of cathentics in the living room.”

“Just an hour,” I laughed.

Maddox lifted up his shirt and clenched his abs, giving me a perfect view of the deep v shape that lead down to his manhood. “I do it for you, darling.”

I squirmed a little in my chair. “You’re such a tease.”

Maddox set down his spinach protein shake and wandered to my side of the table. He leaned in and kissed me gently.

I kissed back, harder, and letting my tongue flick against his lips.

Maddox moaned against my mouth, cupped my cheeks, and devoured our kiss. The beast inside of him reared up, eager to claim me right here in the kitchen. He pulled me close, and I felt his hardness through his athletic shorts. “Luna,” He growled.

I broke away for air and noticed Chase coming down the stairs.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Chase said with a wink. While Maddox had the football captain look going on, Chase had more of a surfer aesthetic. He was lanky, but fit, with long dirty-blond hair. He was cute and sexy at the same time.

“Want to join in?” I asked.

“I’d normally say yes, but I have a bunch of stuff to get done today,” Chase said.

Maddox and I blinked with surprise. Chase? Stuff to do? Had I woken up in an alternate universe?

“Come again?” I asked.

“Heh, that’s what she said,” Chase chuckled. “But, seriously, yeah, it’s Christmas Eve, and we haven’t even decorated.”

“Oh,” I grimaced. “I didn’t even realize it was almost Christmas. I don’t really like holidays like that.”

Chase looked genuinely hurt. “Oh,” he said.

Guilt struck me. “Not that I’m against it or anything,” I added quickly to spare his feelings. “It’s just that growing up in foster homes didn’t really make Christmas something to look forward to, y’ know?”

Chase smiled. “All the more reason to make it special now that you’re with us.”

“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wasn’t a crazy Christmas person like some people were.

Chase pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. “I already started a list,” He said. He showed it to Maddox. “We need to get a tree.”

Maddox shot an “I’ve-been-cock-blocked” glance at me and started humoring Chase.

I snuck away from the pair of them and went back upstairs to hopefully grab a shower before the rest of the house woke up. Was it really Christmas Eve? I thought to myself as I walked to the bathroom.

I passed the spare room and paused at the doorframe, peeking into the room that we’d prepped with four twin bunk beds. The beds were all empty, reminding me of the goals that the Pack and I had set when we ran away from Woodlock’s Home.

Ever since we’d settled here, we’d dreamed that we would have the time and resources to house lost shifters. We could take in anyone, those who needed a place to stay and recoup, or those who needed help getting away from abusive packs. Unfortunately, as soon as everything was ready, Winter hit hard and fast. Now, we’d need to wait before we could start scouting wayward shifters properly.

I walked past the room with a rawness aching in my heart. I remembered how Christmas always used to make me feel different. Unwanted. I couldn’t carry that my whole life. I needed to keep looking forward. Knowing that one day, I’d be the one able to help wayward teens, that was what helped me keep going.

Chapter 2

Chase

I waited until everyone was awake before springing my plan on them.

“Hey, Seth,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

“What do you want?” Seth asked around a mouthful of toast.

Damn, he read me like a book. He always did. That’s why he was our alpha.

“Well,” I said. “It’s Christmas tomorrow, and we haven’t got a tree yet.”

Seth looked up at me through his dark eyelashes. “You know I was raised with a family that didn’t celebrate Christmas,” he said. “I don’t exactly count down the days.”

“Why not?” Jasper said with a mock-pout.

“Whatever, I wasn’t asking for your sake,” I said. I gestured upstairs, where Luna was still in the shower. She always took really long, hot showers. “It was for Luna.”

Jasper perked up. “You mean we should decorate for her?”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I know she had a rough time before she met us. Wouldn’t it be nice to celebrate our first Christmas together properly? You know, with a tree, and cookies, and gifts.”

Seth frowned. “Have you seen the snow outside?”

Jasper cut in to rescue my plan. “My SUV can take that, no problem,” He interjected. “Seriously, I think it’s a good idea.”

“I dunno,” Maddox said from the kitchen. “It might bring back bad memories,” the wolf shifter warned.

“All the more reason to make Christmas fun,” I said. “We can replace those memories with good ones.”

Seth sighed. “I’m not sure about going out this soon after a storm.” He leaned back and looked from Jasper to me.

I nudged Jasper, and we both put on our best puppy eyes. “Please, Seth?”

Seth rolled his eyes and looked away. “Ugh, I hate it when you guys do that. You’re a bunch of kids.” He sighed and thought for a moment. “Fine, you can go. But bring me back some beef jerky while you’re out.”

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air.

“I suppose I should go with them, so they don’t hurt themselves,” Maddox said. He was the second-in-command. It was his job to fill in when Seth couldn’t.

“We’re not kids,” I said.

“No, he’s right. The roads are treacherous, and who knows what else could be out there,” Seth agreed with a nod.

“Right, rabid reindeer,” Jasper snickered.

“I’m being serious. So go and come back quick,” Seth said.

Jasper drove his SUV through the thick snow with surprising ease. Maddox sat sprawled out on the back seat, reading a book instead of babysitting like he was supposed to. That suited me fine.

The country roads were icy and snowy, but we managed to get into town easily enough. The plan was to load up on some food, grab a present or two for Luna, and then find a nice tree to bring home on the way back.

I was jittering with excitement. I loved Christmas. My family life had always been sort of hit-and-miss; coyotes aren’t exactly known for their tight bonds like other shifters, but I still loved the holidays.

The small town was quiet, but a few last-minute shoppers were walking around. The main road had a small grocery store, a florist, a thrift store, and a few privately owned boutiques. It was charming, like a scene from a Christmas card.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” Maddox said, kicking into boss-mode the moment Jasper found a parking spot. “Chase, you get the gift. Jasper and I will grab the food.”

“What about the tree?” I asked.

“There’s a stall on the outskirts of town; we can get a tree there,” Jasper said, gesturing the way we came.

“Yes,” I nearly squealed.

Maddox shook his head at me. “Try to contain yourself, ok?”

Maddox and Jasper went off to the grocery store, leaving me to explore the rest of the small shopping district.

What would Luna want for Christmas? What would be the perfect gift for the girl who had literally changed our lives in so many ways? She was frugal, generous, caring, motherly, all at the same time as being the best girlfriend any of us could have ever asked for. Whatever I got for her, it had to be perfect.

I stopped in front of a gift shop called Rose & Pea’s Fine Gifts. It had a cute appearance, in a sort of country-kitsch style.

The bell rang as I walked in, quickly shutting the door behind me to stop the draft from following me.

There was an older woman at the counter. She looked up at me over her silver glasses. “Hello there, young man, how are you?”

“Good,” I said, catching my breath.

Everything in the tiny shop looked fragile and beautiful. The air smelled like apple pie, and candles flickered in random places amongst the wooden shelves.

“Here for a last-minute gift?” She asked.

I nodded.

The old woman scooted around the counter, peering at me. “For a special lady?”

I nodded again. “How did you know?”

Her eyes glittered. “I know a lot. Run a gift shop for as long as I have, and there are no surprises any more. I know you’re here for something special, not flowers or chocolate. Something unique.”

I nodded, feeling as if she was reading my mind. Was she a witch?

The old woman winked at me. “I know just the thing.”

I didn’t have time to speak.

She was gone, rustling through the crowded store. “Just wait right there, I know the gift you need. It’s calling to me!”

So she was either a witch or a crazy old woman. Maybe both.

I stayed put, waiting just as I was told.

A minute later, the woman came back. Her clog shoes echoed on the wooden floor as she scurried between the shelves. She held up the gift for me to see. “Here,” She said.

I gasped, taking it from her.

The gift she’d found was an antique pendant of a crescent moon made of silver. Nestled in the silver moon was a rose gold cat: a pink cat, her favorite illusion.

“It is perfect,” I said.

“Did you doubt me?” The old woman asked.

“Not for a second,” I said.

The woman took the pendant back and went to the counter. There, she carefully wrapped it in silver tissue paper and nestled it into a gift box, along with a thick scented candle.

“Every gift comes with a free candle. Make a wish on it, and it’s sure to come true,” The woman said. “A little Christmas magic from me to you.”

I paid for the gift and held the box carefully. “Thank you so much,” I said.

The woman nodded. “My pleasure, dear.” She glanced out the window. “Your friends will be looking for you in a moment, don’t keep them waiting.”

I looked out the window, but no one was there. A moment later, Jasper and Maddox walked by with bags of groceries. When I turned back to the woman, she only smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” She said.

Chapter 3

Chase

I stared down at the giftbox in my hands as Jasper started up the SUV and drove out of town. The thick, wet snow made the tires spin and the engine groan.

“Pretty sure she was a witch,” Maddox said, leaning between the seats and looking at the gift. It was too perfect, not a single wrinkle on the gift wrap, as if it had been done by magic.

I shrugged. “She found the perfect gift,” I said. “She said it would bring us Christmas magic.”

“Let’s just hope it’s not cursed,” Jasper said.

It was starting to snow again, and the sky was growing dark.

“Let’s just get the tree and head home,” Maddox said. He leaned back and dug around in the grocery bag until he found the beef jerky.

“I thought that was for Seth?” I asked.

“I bought more than one bag,” Maddox countered.

“Then hand me some up here.”

“No way!” Maddox growled.

“Can both of you shut it?” Jasper snapped. “I’m trying to pay attention to the road. I know the Christmas tree stall was around here somewhere.” He slowed down the SUV so he could get a better look.

“There,” I said, pointing.

There was a fenced-in area with a huge wooden sign that said CHRISTMAS TREES FOR SALE. The problem was, it was empty and dark. Whoever had been selling them had long packed up and went home.

Jasper stopped at the side of the road. “Damn it,” He sighed.

“There’s still some left,” Maddox said, craning his neck for a better look.

He was right. A few shabby-looking trees were piled along one side of the fence, presumably the ones that weren’t good enough to sell.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we took one,” I said. “That’s not stealing, is it?”

“Nope, it’s finders-keepers,” Maddox said. He looked at Jasper. “Keep this thing running. Chase and I will go grab a tree, and we’ll be home before dinner.”

Jasper sighed, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “Fine.”

I jumped out of the SUV and trudged through the slush towards the fenced area. Most of the wooden signs were taken down and piled alongside the road. Whoever was selling trees was gone for the night.

Maddox hopped the fence and went over to the pile of forgotten trees. “Do you really think this is alright?” He asked, turning up his nose at the bundled evergreens.

They were all small, with a few bare patches, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a little bit of care and decorations.

“They’ll be fine,” I said. I rolled an extra-ratty one over to find a nicer one hidden underneath. “This one looks good,” I grunted as I lifted the tree up to a standing position by the twine rope that kept it in manageable shape.

Suddenly, something moved in the shadows under the tree.

My coyote senses became alert. It smelled like a wolf, but not Maddox. “What was that?” I asked.

“You saw it too?” Maddox asked, crouching down. He growled in his throat. “We’re not the only shifters here.”

Then, from under the bundled trees, we heard a whine. Two small wolf pups came into view, shivering, with their coats caked in ice.

“Please, help us, we’re lost,” One whined in his tiny voice.

“Wolf pups!” I gasped. Whatever I had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t two young shifters out here on their own.

Maddox seemed lost for words.

Looks like we might have got a magical Christmas, after all.

Chapter 4

Luna

When Seth told me that Chase and the others had gone out for groceries, I hadn’t expected them to come back with a Christmas tree and two wolf pups!

The two wolf pups, who still had not shifted into their human forms, were curled up in a pile of blankets by the fire. Thankfully, they hadn’t been out long enough to do much damage. They were cold, hungry, and scared, but they’d live.

“Ok, so explain to me again?” I asked, trying to make sense of it all.

Chase chuckled nervously. “Well,” He glanced at Seth.

Seth gave him a pointed look. The sort of look that said, this was your idea, so face the consequences.

“I wanted to do something special for you. I wanted you to see that Christmas could be fun. So we went to get dinner and a tree.” He motioned to the patchy tree that Maddox had propped up in the corner of the room. It made the entire house smell like an evergreen.

“We found these two pups hiding under the trees, using them as shelter,” Chase continued. “Apparently, they were traveling with their mom and got split up during the snow squall.”

“So, their mother is still out there?” I asked.

Chase nodded.

“We left a note with the trees in case she comes looking for them. It has our info on it, too,” Maddox added. “Tomorrow, we’ll head out and look for her. It would be a lost cause out there now.”

I glanced out the window. It was dark and snowy. No one should be out there in this weather, especially with pups.

“So, what do we do?” I asked.

“What else is there to do but enjoy the evening?” Chase said. He hauled the groceries into the kitchen, humming to himself.

How could he be so relaxed when there were missing pups with us? Was he that consumed with the holiday that he couldn’t see we had real problems?

Seth must have sensed my tension. He wandered over and put a hand on my shoulder. “Let him cook,” He said, kissing my forehead. “It will keep him busy.”

I sighed and collapsed on the couch. “What about the pups?”

“We’ll look for their mom in the morning,” Seth promised.

Jasper crouched down by the pups. “Hey, wake up.” He gently nudged them. “Can you boys shift? Are you well enough?”

The gentle voice he used with them made my heart twinge. He was a wolf, just like them. Maybe he could make them less afraid.

One of the pups opened his eyes and whined. When he spoke, it came out in a whimper, it wasn’t quite human-sounding, but of course, he was in his wolf form. “Our mom was supposed to come to find us, but she didn’t. Do you think she’s ok?”

“We’ll find her tomorrow,” Jasper said, “I promise. Right now, you boys need to shift, so we can get you warm. There are beds upstairs.”

The pup nodded and closed his eyes. The two of them shifted into human form, holding the blankets around their bodies. Two boys now stood by the fire, one looked to be about five, and the other was a few years older.

“That’s good,” Jasper said with an approving nod. “Can’t have my fellow wolves out in the cold all night, can I?”

The younger one smiled, but the older still withheld his complete trust. He studied us all slowly.

“Why are you helping us?” He asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Seth said. “I’m the alpha of this pack, and anyone who needs protection will find it here.”

The boy sucked in a breath and held out his hand. “My name is Darren. This is my little brother Todd.”

Seth shook his head. “Pleased to meet you. Keep that up, and you’ll make a fine alpha yourself one day.”

It was Darren’s turn to beam with pride. His pale cheeks went pink.

Jasper winked at me. “So, you boys hungry?”

“Yes!” The pair cried out.

“Well, you’re in luck, because our pack is a little obsessed with pancakes,” Jasper said.

“Way ahead of you,” Maddox said from the kitchen. He came out carrying plates stacked to the top with thick, golden pancakes. “Here you go, boys, pack specialty.”

The kids dug into the food like ravenous animals, eating with their hands.

Usually, I would have cared, but not tonight. These boys needed protection, warmth, and a relaxed environment if they were going to make it without their mother. I could only hope that Jasper could keep his promise, and we would find her in the morning.

Once the wolf pups were fed, clothed, and safely tucked in bed, we all found ourselves downstairs.

Maddox was tinkering with the tree, trying to jazz it up a bit with the lights he bought in town. Jasper and Chase were still cooking. Seth, ever the man-in-charge, was examining a local map to see possible directions the mother wolf shifter might have gone.

I stared out the window, watching the snow continue to pile up. The wind whistled through the trees, and the moon was completely hidden in the clouds. Wherever the pups’ mom was, I could only hope she would be alright.

“You ok, Luna?” Jasper asked.

I looked over, and he handed me a cup of warm milk with a sprinkle of cinnamon. “Yeah, I’m ok,” I said with a soft sigh.

“Don’t stress, ok?” He said. “We’ll find her.”

Something clattered and dropped with a bang into the kitchen.

Jasper winced. “I should check on Chase. He wanted to make cookies for the kids.”

I followed Jasper to the kitchen, sipping my warm milk.

In the kitchen, Chase had carefully made gingerbread men, shaping them with a knife because we had no cookie cutters. He was working hard, with a pile of dishes already stacked near the sink.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Chase looked up. “Making cookies for the pups,” He said. “They can’t wake up on Christmas morning with nothing.”

My chest tightened. How many mornings had I woke up with nothing? I was just a foster kid, not a real part of the family. I shook off the cold that clenched my heart. Just because I had been given the shaft every year didn’t mean that I should spoil it for everyone else.

“That’s nice of you,” I said, suddenly unsure of my words. Memories of my past came flooding back and messing with my brain. I shook the feeling off. Now was not the time. I couldn’t ruin this for everyone else.

“Luna,” Jasper said. “I know that maybe Christmas wasn’t a great thing for you growing up, and believe me, we all have had our shitty days. Instead of focusing on that, I was thinking, why don’t we focus on the pups.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They’re having a rough time, and Christmas is the one thing that a lot of kids look forward to. Even though their mother is lost and they’re separated, I think it would be nice if we gave them a Christmas morning to remember.”

I took a sip of the warm milk, letting it defrost my heart. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Jasper seemed surprised at my eagerness, breaking out with a huge smile. He hugged me tightly.

“Awesome,” Chase beamed. “Let’s get started!”

We worked into the early morning hours to ensure everything would be perfect when the boys woke up.

Chase’s enthusiasm was infectious. He ran around the house like a holiday elf, trading his time between cookies, decorating, and keeping us on track.

I sat on the floor with Maddox, making paper decorations for the tree. Seth finished the lights and covered the bare or brown spots on the tree. Jasper worked in the kitchen with Chase, prepping everything we would need for a hearty Christmas breakfast.

While we worked, Chase hummed every Christmas carol known to mankind.

As the night wore on, the guys fell asleep one by one until it was only Chase and I left.

Seth and Maddox lay cuddled on the couch. Jasper had fallen asleep at the table while stringing together popcorn garland.

I paused from the popcorn crafts and looked over at Chase, who was bundling the cookies in cellophane bags and tying them with leftover twine from the tree.

He must have sensed my gaze. “What is it?” he asked.

I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing, I’m just … happy,” I said.

“I’m glad,” Chase said. He finished tying a bow and then looked around. “It’s not fancy, but I think the boys will like it.”

If I had to describe the decorations we’d made, I would have used the word rustic. It was charming, obviously done by hand, but I could feel the love in every inch.

“It’s perfect,” I said, and I meant it.

Chase beamed. “Thanks,” He said. He set the wrapped cookies under the tree and then sat down beside me at the table. He plucked the unfinished popcorn garland from under Jasper’s head and got to work stringing the popped kernels together.

We worked in silence for a little while before he spoke again.

“I hope I wasn’t too pushy,” Chase said. “I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said. For the first time in my life, I was actually enjoying a holiday, and I wasn’t going to let anything take that away.

Chapter 5

Luna

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I was woken at dawn by the sound of the two wolf pups.

The boys woke early and came running down the stairs. Both of them were dressed in some of the spare clothes we’d collected for any incoming shifters that might have needed our help. The clothes were obviously too big; none of us had considered that children might find their way to our door.

Chase was already awake. “Good morning, Darren. Good morning, Todd.”

“Is our mother here yet?” Darren asked.

My heart broke a little for him.

“Not yet, I’m afraid. But we’re going to start looking as soon,” I said.

“Darren!” Todd squealed, shaking his brother’s arm. “Look, the Christmas tree! Santa must have come and brought us stuff!” He ran off, diving under the tree and finding the perfectly wrapped packages of cookies.

Darren, who had long stopped believing in Santa, based on his expression, glanced from his brother to Chase.

Chase winked.

Darren gave us an appreciative smile that made him seem much older than he was. This kid had been through some shit, I could tell. I saw myself in him, and that made my chest ache for the child. He was wiser beyond his years because he hadn’t been given a choice in the matter.

Seth, Maddox, and Jasper all woke at the sound of Chase clamoring around the kitchen and the boys talking excitedly.

“So, what do you think?” Chase asked.

“It’s great,” Darren said, holding up the wrapped treats.

“I love it!” Todd squealed. His tiny voice wavered as he spoke again. “The only thing that would be better is if mom was here.”

A cloud settled in around us, sobering me up from the joy instantly.

Seth glanced out the window. “The snow has stopped, we should be able to start the search,” He aid.

Maddox and Jasper nodded, ready at their alpha’s command. They went upstairs to change and get prepared for what presumably was going to be a long, cold day.

“I wish mom was here,” Todd whispered.

“Me too,” Darren said.

I sighed; the temporary joy I had felt was starting to fade away. What if we couldn’t find their mom? Then what?

Chase bolted up in his seat. “Oh, there was one more present I forgot about.” He ran back to the kitchen, grabbed a gift box, and returned to my side. “Here.”

I forced a smile. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” I insisted.

“Yes, I did.”

“Ok, well now might not be the time,” I said. My eyes flicked over to were Seth was comforting the pups.

“Believe me, it is the right time,” Chase argued, forcing the gift into my hands.

“Alright,” I sighed. Something electric zipped against my fingers. There was strong energy inside. When I opened it, my breath was stolen away from me. An antique pendant lay inside the box, depicting a sliver moon and a pink cat. The chain was twisted around a handmade candle.

“Wow,” I said.

“It’s it beautiful. I thought it suited you perfectly,” Chase added with a smile.

I pulled the pendant from the box, watching the chain twist around and the silver reflecting the lights. “It’s perfect,” I agreed.

Chase helped me with the clasp. The necklace stopped just above my cleavage, framing my neck and face.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“You’re welcome, but it’s not the necklace that we need right now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Chase nodded to the boys. “The lady who sold me this necklace told me that every gift comes with a candle, and the candles will make one wish come true.”

I glanced down at the candle and then at the boys who were listening intently.

“One wish?” I asked.

“A Christmas miracle, perhaps?” Chase whispered.

Seth nodded.

“How do you know she wasn’t tricking you?” I asked.

“Pretty sure she was a witch. A real one,” Chase said, putting his hands over mine. “Can’t you feel the magic?”

I couldn’t deny that. “You’re right,” I said. I brought the candle to the living room and set it down on the floor.

Chase handed me a lighter and then sat down beside me. Seth took up the other side, and the two young shifters sat across from me.

My heart was pounding now. Here we were, promising magic to these kids on Christmas morning. If it didn’t work, how could I live it down? No. I had to believe that this was a real witch’s candle and that any wish we made would come true. I’d been robbed of this so-called Christmas magic my entire life, now was the time to start believing it in; if not for my sake, then at least for the two pups.

“Ok, everyone, do we all know what we are wishing for?” I asked, holding up the lighter.

The boys nodded.

I flicked the lighter, and the candle burst with a bright flame. The energy began to flood the room, and the scene of patchouli and vanilla reached my nose. Then, we all closed our eyes and made a wish. The cumulative power of us sitting together, wishing with all our might, made the candle burn bright and hot. The flame lept up a few feet in the air before surging back down and melting the candle into a waxy stub.

“Whoa,” Darren exclaimed.

I blinked, never seeing a spell candle up close before.

“Did it work?” Todd asked.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Chase said.

We didn’t need to wait long.

Just as Jasper and Maddox returned to the living room, the front door trembled. Someone knocked loudly in a very distinct rhythm.

All of us bolted up in unison. The boys ran to the door, swinging it open before anyone could stop them. Cold wind rushed into the house, sending a spray of snow into the front room.

I gasped.

A woman stood at the threshold with long silver-black hair. She was tall and thin, dressed in many layers and carrying a duffle bag on her back. She was pale, with dark eyes. This woman was exhausted.

“Mama!” Todd cried out. He collapsed into her, weeping.

“Darren! Todd!” The woman gasped. “It’s true. You’re here. I walked all night.”

Seth ushered her inside.

“So, you found our note?” Maddox asked as he and Seth guided her to the seat closest to the fireplace.

The woman nodded. “We’ve been traveling for weeks and got separated in the storm. Thank goodness you found my boys. That storm was the worst I’d ever seen.” She started crying. “How can I ever repay you?”

“No need,” Seth said. “It’s what my pack does. We protect our own.” His jackal eyes flashed in his otherwise human face.

My heart felt like it might burst. I clutched my pendent and excused myself, letting Jasper and Maddox fill in the pups’ mother with the rescue story.

I stepped out onto the porch, marveling at the amount of snow that had fallen last night. The sky was clear now, and the light of the sun made the white world glitter like diamonds. I took a deep breath and exhaled, my breath coming out like a cloud.

“You ok?” Chase asked.

I looked over at him. “Yeah.”

Chase put his hand on my shoulder, leaning in for a quick kiss. “So, your magic worked.”

“Did it really? If she was already on her way…”

Chase chuckled. “Whether it did or not, we still have a happy ending.”

I nodded, hugging my arms around my body and shifting from side to side as a particularly frigid gust of wind flew over the house.

“Thank you,” I said after a moment.

“For what?” Chase asked, tipping his head to the side.

I smiled. “For showing me that Christmas magic really does exist.” I kissed his cheek. “I wouldn’t have found it if you hadn’t been so adamant. Plus, you saved those boys' lives. If that doesn’t add up to a Christmas miracle, I don’t know what does.”

Chase blushed. “So, does that mean we can start celebrating more holidays?” He asked. “I have big plans for Valentine’s day.” He grinned.

“Oh no,” I said in mock terror, before kissing him again.

Chase held me tightly. “Truth be told, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” He said. “It may have been small, but I wouldn’t trade these memories for the world.”

Chase was right. He’d given me new memories of Christmas now, ones of love and joy. Life with my pack had grown even more bright. At a time when I used to be overcome by sadness, I now only felt gratitude and love.

We could hear the boys laughing through the windows. Their joy made the wintery cold around us seem not so bad.

“Merry Christmas, Chase,” I said.

“Merry Christmas, Luna.”

Enjoyed this story? Read more from Luna and the Pack in Crooked Changeling and the Woodlock’s Home for Magical Delinquents Series.

About the Author

SAMANTHA BELL is a writer, student, and self-diagnosed book hoarder. She has been living in her imagination as long as she can remember.

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A Haunting for Christmas

Tricia Schneider

About A Haunting for Christmas

Ava has called 911 countless times because of the footsteps she hears in her house, but an intruder is never found. When she tries to call for help again, her police officer brother-in-law finally shows up to check out the situation.

Jared promised he would look out for Ava after his brother died, but he’s been avoiding her for months, too fearful of betraying his brother's memory with his growing feelings for her. When he hears the 911 dispatch, he knows it's up to him to help her.

Jared promises Ava he will get to the bottom of the mysterious footsteps. But can he help her without revealing that he's in love with her?

Chapter 1

“911. State your emergency.”

“He’s back again. I don’t know what to do. It’s happening again.”

“Is there someone in your house, ma’am?”

“Yes. He’s back. I hear his footsteps.”

“What is your address?”

“128 Stoyer Street. Please hurry!”

“Ma’am, are still there? Ma’am?”

A chill swept over Officer Jared Stark when he heard Ava’s address over the police cruiser’s radio.

“Based on past 911 calls to this location, the situation is classified non urgent. The owner has called repeatedly and there’s never any sign of an intruder.”

“Dispatch, I’ve got this one. I’ll check it out and advise.”

Jared pulled the cruiser to the side of the road, checked for oncoming traffic and swung the car into a U-turn. Stoyer Street was on the outskirts of Hidden Haven in a forested section not far from Stoyer Lake. He could be there within 10 minutes with no traffic.

That was 10 minutes to ponder what prompted Ava Stark to call 911 again. He’d heard his fellow officers talk about her frantic calls for help. Each time one of the officers responded, they searched the premises thoroughly only to find no sign of intruders or any possible danger. They suggested an upgrade to her security system, but Ava was a waitress at the Hidden River Diner. She didn’t have the necessary funds for an elite security system.

Guilt ate at Jared’s conscience. He’d been meaning to check on Ava sooner. Especially, when he heard about her 911 calls.

As Jesse’s brother, Jared felt responsible for Ava. He’d promised his brother he would keep her safe. Jared wasn’t doing a great job by avoiding her.

He’d reasoned to himself that his fellow officers had checked the house, and all was well. There was nothing more he could do.

Really, he used that knowledge as an excuse. Something to keep the guilt at bay.

He pulled onto Stoyer Street, drove by the lake and onto the hill where her house resided, nestled within the woods. She wasn’t far from town, but with the surrounding forest, especially at night, the area felt isolated and remote.

It didn’t take long before he pulled the police cruiser into her driveway, the snow crunching beneath the tires.

Ava stood on the porch with her arms crossed over her chest, a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders to keep warm from the winter chill. Her eyes were wide with fright as the car’s headlights shone onto the house.

She was already stepping down from the porch to meet him as he parked the vehicle and opened the door.

“Jared,” she said, her voice unusually high-pitched. “Thank God, it’s you this time.”

“Ava.” The sight of her pale face tugged at his heart. Damn, he was a jerk. He should’ve checked on her sooner.

There was no time for more words. As soon as she met him beside the car, she launched herself into his arms.

Startled, Jared froze. Her slender arms wrapped beneath his open jacket, curving around the warmth of his torso. She rested her chilled cheek against his chest, holding tight.

The strength of her embrace and the desperation emanating from her broke through the shock of feeling her petite body against him.

“How long have you been waiting outside?” He moved his arms around her, cocooning her in the warmth of his embrace. Cold from her cheek seeped through his shirt as she pressed herself against him. She was chilled through.

“I’m not sure. However long it took for you to get here.”

“Ava,” Jared whispered her name, regret stinging his heart. It had taken him too long to get here. Way too long.

He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d spoken. Weeks had turned into countless months. He’d tried to ignore the passage of time.

He’d tried to ignore a lot of things. Especially the way he felt about her, the way his body responded every time he was near her. The way his blood hummed with pleasure at her every smile, every laugh, every… everything.

Ava was perfect. And not to be touched.

Jared sighed and stepped back. Her arms fell away, and he stared into her wide, frightened eyes.

“What’s going on?”

She swallowed hard before speaking. “There’s someone in my house.”

His gaze flashed to the structure behind her. With the only light came from within the living room, all other windows were dark.

“Have you seen him?”

“N-not exactly,” she stammered. “But I heard his footsteps. He’s in the basement.”

“Get in the car. Stay warm,” Jared said, his hand inching to his sidearm.

She wrapped her arms over her chest again. “Be careful, Jared.”

Without another word, Jared left her side to step onto the porch and into the house.

The moment he set foot in the living room, he felt the chill in the air. Had she left a window open somewhere? Was that why she felt so cold? Or did the intruder open a window to get inside?

The living room was as he remembered it. A sofa and a recliner, a coffee table littered with magazines, two end tables with lit lamps and a flat screen TV on the far wall.

There was a fireplace where red and green stockings hung. The winter nights were chilly, but Ava rarely used the fireplace. It was more for decoration as she had a furnace in the basement to heat the house.

A small, fiber-optic Christmas tree illuminated one corner of the living room. Ava had put little effort in decorating for the holidays this year. Typically, the entire house would be lit with Christmas lights and every surface from the living room to kitchen would contain some holiday decoration. Either she only started or didn’t have the Christmas spirit to finish.

Again, that twinge of guilt surfaced. He could have helped her string the lights outside, at least. That was usually Jesse’s task.

He walked into the dining room, switching on lights as he went into the kitchen. He listened intently for sounds of an intruder, searched for any movement or signs that someone other than Ava was in the house.

There was nothing. No footsteps or sounds other than his own.

After checking to find the back door locked in the kitchen, he turned to the basement door on the other side of the refrigerator. Again, he listened for sounds of movement. Hearing nothing, he opened the basement door and flipped the switch to illuminate the stairs.

No signs of any life from where he could see down the steps, but the hairs on the back of his neck rose slightly.

Something didn’t feel right.

He drew his weapon before stepping down the stairs. If someone was down here, he didn’t want to be taken by surprise.

Cautiously, he approached the bottom of the stairs, his gaze sweeping the entire area, searching for danger or possible ambush.

As soon as he set foot on the concrete floor, he scanned the entire room but found no one lurking.

The basement had changed little since the last time he was down here. Jesse and Ava had used this area as both storage and Jesse’s workroom.

One wall was lined with boxes, mostly holiday decorations and other memorable items that neither was willing to give up. The other side of the basement was used as Jesse’s shop. A long wooden work bench sat in the middle of the area. Shelves filled with tools stood along the wall. A neatly stacked pile of unused wood leaned against one shelf.

Jared tried to ignore the unfinished rocking chair that Jesse had been attempting to construct for Ava. It had been his third attempt. He recalled joking with his brother how Ava would be an old lady by the time he had completed a properly functioning rocking chair. Just in time for retirement.

He swallowed hard at the memories of his brother. Then he forced his attention back to the rest of the basement. He searched for footprints, any signs of items moved haphazardly or searched through. If someone had thought to steal something, he would expect to see boxes opened and left spilling the contents on the floor.

Nothing seemed out of place.

In fact, everything appeared untouched. As if Jesse had merely left to go get a cup of coffee or a beer before returning to finish this damn rocking chair.

Ava had moved nothing. She hadn’t packed away any of his tools. Everything remained as Jesse had left them. The only sign of the passage of time was the layer of dust coating the table and shelves.

Still, something didn’t feel right about this room. It was colder here than upstairs. Not that it alarmed him. Basements were normally cooler than the rest of the house.

But it felt frigid. Heat turned off in the winter cold. See his breath cold.

Beyond that, he couldn’t overcome the sensation of being watched. He felt a gaze upon his back. He turned, expecting to see Ava creeping down the stairs to check on him, but no one was there.

“Hello?” His voice echoed slightly in the unused basement.

He checked the door leading to the outside. It was locked.

Jared had the rest of the house to check, yet. He left the basement, locking the door behind him.

It didn’t take much time to check the upstairs. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper floor. There was a small attic crawl space at the top, which he examined as well.

No sign of anything. Except that feeling of not being alone.

The sensation was stronger once he returned to the first floor. Again, he checked each room. Nothing appeared disturbed. All the windows were locked. No one was hiding in any closets, beneath the bed, nor behind the sofa.

It was all clear.

Jared opened the front door to the house. He paused in the doorway and waved to Ava, who sat wide-eyed in the driver’s seat of the police cruiser.

At his signal, she opened the door to the car and approached the house.

“Did you find anything?”

He shook his head. “Come inside. There’s no one here.”

He stepped back to allow her space to enter, then firmly closed the door and locked it. He joined her on the opposite side of the sofa, perching on the cushions so he could face her.

“I’ve been told this has happened before. This isn’t your first 911 call.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why don’t you fill me in on what’s been going on.”

“Okay,” she said with a deep sigh, her fingers spread open on her festive candy cane legging-clad legs. “It started over a month ago.”

Her gaze found his. Every time she looked at him, his pulse sped up in reaction. Ava was beautiful. Not only in appearance, but in her soul. She was a good person. She had a sweet and gentle disposition. A wonderful, caring heart.

Seeing her frightened like this ate at him. Guilt for not checking on her and self-hatred for desiring her clawed at his insides. Even as she spoke, he fought the urge to lean toward her, to wrap her in his arms.

“At first, I thought it was the house creaking. You know? House settling or the wind. But the sounds continued. They were footsteps. Distinct footsteps.”

“In the basement?”

She shook her head. “Not always.”

“Do you keep the doors and windows locked at all times?”

“I do now.” She nodded, then clenched her fingers together. “Jared, I think it might be Jesse.”

Chapter 2

She sounded insane. She knew she did. But she couldn’t explain it any other way.

Ava had been over it again and again in her mind. She couldn’t come up with any other answers or explanations as to what was causing those footsteps or the irrational sensation of someone watching her.

“What?” Jared reeled back, his eyes widening as if she’d dumped a bucket of ice over his head. “Jesse’s dead, Ava.”

“I know that,” she snapped, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment and then taking a deep breath before refocusing her gaze on him. “I think he’s a ghost.”

“Ava…” Jared leaned back on the sofa. He opened his mouth to continue, then closed it shut.

Ava unclenched her fingers and rubbed her knees. Then she tightened her fingers into fists and lay them on her lap. She didn’t know what to do with her hands anymore. She desperately wanted to keep herself occupied so she could resist the urge to grab Jared by the shoulders and shake him. Or wrap her hands around his chest again and hold him close.

Either way, she forced herself to remain seated as she waited for his response, knowing she must sound crazy. Would he believe her? She barely believed herself most days.

What else could it be? When the noises started, she’d searched the house herself. There was never anyone there. But the noises continued to the point she began calling 911. She didn’t know what else to do anymore.

“Ava,” Jared sighed. “If that’s the case, then calling 911 won’t help. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse.”

Anger flared within her, and she leaned forward.

“Well, I had to. You weren’t returning my phone calls. You even stopped coming into the diner. You disappeared. I had no one else to turn to.”

He flinched. “I know… I’m sorry… I was—”

“Busy, I know.” Ava nodded. “I’ve heard how busy you’ve been. May Alcott. Sue Reynolds. Josie Watkins. Am I missing anyone?”

Jared’s left eyebrow raised as she listed the names of the women he’d dated in the last three years since Jesse’s death.

“What do they have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Ava said, shaking her head with a sigh. “Absolutely nothing. I’m sorry, I’m just…” She put a hand to her brow and rubbed her forehead.

She hadn’t meant to let loose such an outburst. Just because she kept a constant vigil on Jared didn’t mean he needed to do the same for her.

But she worried about him. She knew how much Jesse had meant to Jared and losing him that way… It had been hard.

Ava had only been married to Jesse for three years before cancer claimed him. Jared had known his brother for his entire life. What were a few years of marriage compared to a lifetime as siblings?

And they weren’t only brothers. They’d been best friends. Always hanging out together, sharing the same hobbies, the same likes and dislikes. They had their moments of disagreements like all siblings, but their relationship was strong enough to continue beyond those few moments.

It’d been three years since Jesse’s funeral. For the first several months, Jared had done as he’d promised Jesse. He’d checked in on Ava. Many times.

They shared their grief over losing Jesse. In the process, they’d grown to be greater friends.

And then, what felt like all of a sudden, his visits became only phone calls. Soon later, the length between phone calls grew until nothing.

“It’s been months since I’ve heard from you, Jared.” Ava couldn’t hide the concern in her voice, so she added, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Jared blurted. He shook his head, his gaze falling to focus on his hands. “I should have returned your phone calls. I should’ve checked on you sooner. Especially after I heard about the 911 calls. I’m sorry. I have no excuse.”

Ava nodded, accepting his apology. Just like Jesse, her relationship with Jared went beyond squabbles. They had a disagreement. Now, they could move forward.

At least, she hoped.

“That isn’t what this is about, is it?” Jared tilted his head as he lifted his chin to stare at her. “Did you make those 911 calls to get me to come here?”

“No.” Ava shook her head, gasping to realize how he might interpret the situation in that way. “God, no, Jared. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then you seriously heard footsteps in the house?”

“Yes.” She nodded, keeping her gaze steady with his.

“And you think they might be from… Jesse?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But who else could it be?”

Jared sighed again. “You don’t think there might be someone trying to prank you? Teenagers, looking to scare someone for fun, that sort of thing?”

“Jared, I don’t know. That’s why I called 911.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Well… I’m here. I haven’t seen sign of any intruder. All the doors and windows are secure. What do you want me to do?”

Ava squeezed her eyes shut. She took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, she said, “I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not, Jared. I hear footsteps in my house, but no one is there. Could you… Could you stay for a while? Maybe if you heard them, too, then I’ll know what’s really going on.”

When he opened his mouth to answer, she feared he’d find some excuse not to stay, so she leaned forward, touching his knee with her hand.

“Please? If you heard them… at least, I’d know I’m not going crazy.”

“Fine.” Jared said, laying his hand over hers. “I can’t stay now, but I’ll be back after my shift. Will you be okay here until then?”

Ava shivered at the thought of listening to those footsteps again. If she knew for certain it was Jesse, she’d feel better. She could never be afraid of her husband. He loved her and had taken care of her.

But… what if it wasn’t Jesse? That’s what worried her. There was no way for her to know for sure, and she needed help.

She needed Jared.

If he could help her get through this… haunting or whatever it was, she knew she’d be okay.

“Just text me when you’re on your way here. I’ll head over to my sister’s place until then. I’ve been spending more time at Tina’s house than mine lately.”

Jared frowned. “Has it been that bad?”

“It’s the not knowing that’s the worst.”

Ava stood, clasping her hands in front of her. Jared joined her and they walked to the door together.

“We’ll get this sorted, Ava,” Jared said when he hesitated at the door. “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“Thanks,” she said. And because she couldn’t help herself and it was just her way, she wrapped her arms around him again, hugging him in the same way she’d greeted him.

She inhaled his scent. Cinnamon and pine. His warmth wrapped around her as he folded his hands over her back.

“It’ll be okay, Ava.” He whispered into her hair. He placed a gentle kiss on her head before he dropped his hands and released her. Her scalp tingled where he pressed his lips.

She watched him go. He opened the door, walked to the police cruiser and drove away.

Her heart thudded. It felt so good to see him again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until recently.

She tried to ignore that spark of desire that ignited every time she thought of him.

She’d known Jared since high school. They met when he dated Ava’s sister for a short time. But her friendship with him had grown even after her sister had broken it off with him.

Jared had been one of her best friends long before he introduced her to his brother. She’d always been attracted to Jared. But so had other women. There was never a time Jared was unattached, and she’d never been the kind of person to interfere in someone else’s relationship.

And then she met Jesse. Since Jared was unavailable, she moved on. She was tired of waiting. Jesse had been a wonderful husband, and he loved her. She loved him. She had a good life with him until he got sick.

Now, for the first time in their lives, both Jared and Ava were each single again.

Ava tried not to think of what that could mean. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. She buried her husband three years ago.

Three long, lonely years.

Ava doubted Jared would look at her in the way she desired. He never had when they were teenagers. Now, he simply saw her as his sister-in-law.

His friend.

Any affection he felt for her was platonic. She knew that, even if she secretly yearned for something more.

To her surprise, her high school crush on her sister’s boyfriend had never faded.

And now there were footsteps in her house that might be from her dead husband.

She shivered as she glanced around the living room, wondering if Jesse was with her now. Had he watched her interaction with his brother?

Was he angry about her growing feelings for Jared? Could ghosts be jealous of the living?

Or would Jesse, being the warm-hearted soul as she knew him, be relieved to see her finally find happiness again?

Or what if it wasn’t Jesse? What would she do then?

Chapter 3

Jared finished his shift and texted Ava that he was on his way. He arrived before she did, so he took the time to sweep the property, checking the new fallen snow from the winter storm last night for any additional footprints other than his own leading to the house. He searched the perimeter of the house and found nothing aside from a few deer tracks. Even those didn't approach the house too closely.

The question remained. Where were the sounds of those footsteps coming from? Were they a figment of Ava's imagination?

That's what he had to find out. He wasn't there to renew his friendship with Ava, nor rediscover old feelings of desire he felt for his brother's wife. This was strictly business.

He kept telling himself that, but the moment he saw Ava pull her Ford Taurus into the driveway, his heart gave a sudden leap.

So much for keeping this platonic.

Jared fought his reaction to his sister-in-law as she got out of the car and slammed the door. A second later, she wavered, slipping on ice and crashing to the ground.

Jared leaped off the porch, rushing to her side.

"Are you okay?" He knelt beside her, grasping her arms as she blinked.

"Jeez," she said with a nervous laugh. "I guess I should have done better with shoveling the snow."

"Are you hurt? You went down hard."

"Only my pride."

Jared helped her to her feet, then hooked her arm around his elbow as he accompanied her back to the house. There were a few icy patches beneath the snow. She wobbled once more before they reached the porch.

"Thank you," she said while stomping the snow off her shoes.

"Of course," Jared answered. "Any time."

He didn't mention it was a pleasure for him to help her. He enjoyed the feeling of her tucked beside him, as if it were the place she belonged.

Once inside, they both removed their winter jackets. Ava took his to hang on a hook by the front door. Then she removed her shoes and asked him to do the same.

"No sense tracking wet snow throughout the house," she added while she placed her sneakers and his boots beneath the area where their jackets hung. She straightened. "You want a cup of hot cocoa? Or something else?"

"Hot cocoa will be fine." He followed her into the kitchen. She set about the room, getting the contents together for the hot cocoa while he wandered to the back door, checking the locks again. He pulled the curtains to investigate the backyard. "How's your sister doing?"

"Tina? Well..." Ava shrugged. "She's Tina, you know? Her life is continuing drama."

"Oh?" Once Jared determined the back door was secure, he walked nonchalantly to the basement door, checking the doorknob to see that it was locked, as well. "What's going on?"

"She broke up with Duane."

"Duane Nagle?"

"Yep." She nodded as she stirred the milk in a pot on the stove.

Jared smiled. It always amused him that Ava insisted on making hot cocoa from milk heated by the stove rather than the microwave. She used to complain the microwave made it taste fake.

He grabbed some mugs from the cupboard near the sink, placing them on the counter beside her.

"Thanks." She smiled, glancing at him. His heart thudded at the sight of the smile softening her face.

"You're welcome."

She continued to tell him of her sister's issues with Duane and why she finally broke off their relationship. Jared listened intently while at the same time admiring Ava. She wore the same sweater and candy cane leggings from earlier. He enjoyed the sight of her figure, all curves on her petite frame. He'd often imagined what it might feel like to peel the clothes from her body, to marvel at the sight of her naked and in his embrace.

She set the steaming mug of cocoa in front of him, jarring him from his daydreams.

"Marshmallows or whipped cream?"

The sudden image of her naked and covered in whipped cream and cherries popped into his mind. He felt himself flush as he chastised himself for his improper and highly erotic thoughts.

"Neither, thanks," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as if that might erase the image. He needed to keep this professional between them. He couldn't do that if he kept imaging her naked and writhing with pleasure beneath him.

"Tired?" Ava slid onto the seat across from him.

"Huh?"

Her delicate eyebrows crinkled with concern. "You were rubbing your eyes. Are you tired? Rough day at work?"

"Ah..." No way was he telling her the truth. "Yeah. A bit. How about you? How's the diner?"

He easily diverted the conversation back to her. Which is the way he preferred it. He enjoyed listening to her. She could talk about anything, the dullest subject he could imagine, and he'd pay rapt attention to her. Her voice was sweet and sincere. Like a soft melody. He enjoyed every note.

She laughed nervously. "I hope I'm not wasting your time tonight."

"Not at all."

"You don't have any hot date? It is Friday night. Shouldn't you be out wooing someone?"

"There's no one I'm interested in wooing right now." It felt like a lie on his tongue. Someone interested him. But she was untouchable.

"I find that hard to believe." Ava laughed, lightly. She quickly sobered when she said, "I just hope I'm not keeping you for no reason. I'll feel bad if nothing happens tonight."

Again, improper images danced in his imagination. He scolded his libido. That's not what she meant.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Jared reached across the table, covering his fingers over her small hand that held her mug in a rather tight grip. He squeezed gently in reassurance. "We're just two friends catching up with each other. There doesn't have to be any other reason for me to be here."

She nodded, her smile forced. "I just hope you hear what I hear. I need to know I'm not crazy."

Again, he squeezed his hand over hers. "I don't think you’re crazy, Ava. Not at all."

"Thanks," she whispered. He thought he saw her eyes glistening before she rapidly blinked and quickly stood, taking their empty mugs to the sink to rinse out. Turning back to him, she said, "What would you like to do while we wait? Play a card game? Watch a movie?"

He desperately wanted to do something else with her, but he could never tell her that. "Some TV will be great."

"Okay." She smiled as they moved into the living room. She grabbed the remote and curled onto one end of the sofa while he claimed the other side. The television clicked on and she scrolled through the guide until she found something they both liked. "I think there's a hockey game on."

Jared's heart swelled at the suggestion. "That's sweet of you, Ava. But I know for a fact that you abhor hockey. I'm not gonna ask you to watch it for me."

"It's okay," she said, the laughter back in her voice. "Guest's choice. You're doing me a favor by hanging out with me. The least I can do is make it enjoyable for you by watching a game of hockey."

He shook his head. But he loved her even more for offering. She was so selfless. Few other women he knew would sit and watch a game they didn't like to please the guy they're with.

"What about that old soap opera you used to watch with your mom? The one you raved about when we were teenagers?"

Ava's eyes lit. "You remember that show?"

"Vaguely. Something about vampires and witches, right?"

Ava giggled with delight as she stood and went to the shelf where she kept a collection of DVD's and books. There in one corner sat a coffin-shaped box.

"Did you know Jesse bought the boxed set for me for Christmas the year before he died? That was one of the best gifts he's ever got me." She set the box on the coffee table and opened it. "Where do you want to start? With the vampire or the werewolf?"

Her two favorite characters. "The vampire, of course."

She grinned as she grabbed the disk and turned to work the DVD player attached to the TV. "I can't believe you remember this show."

Jared remembered. He knew exactly what the show was called, but he didn't admit it. He also didn't admit that he was the one who told Jesse to buy it for her for Christmas that year. He remembered her obsession with it when they were younger. There were many nights when he stopped by her house to find her and her mom curled up in front of the television watching a story line of vampires, witches and werewolves.

When she saw that a boxed set was available, she'd mentioned it to another waitress at the diner where she worked. Jared had been there that night getting a cup of coffee. He'd overheard her tell Clara how much she'd love to have that set so she could watch the show whenever she wished, but the price tag was a bit too high. That night, he called his brother and insisted he buy her those DVD's. Jesse had balked, but Jared told him if Jesse didn't buy them for her then he would.

"Are you sure?" Ava asked, a flicker of doubt diminishing the brightness of her eyes. "Jesse bought it for me, but he never liked watching it with me. The offer of hockey is still available."

"Uh-uh," he said with a quick shake of his head. "There's no way I'm passing up a black and white vampire for hockey."

Ava rolled her eyes. "It's not all black and white. The show does get color."

Something he also knew, but he loved teasing those smiles out of her. She sat on the edge of the sofa, pushing buttons on the remote until the show and the eerie music played over the speakers.

While they settled in to watch the show, Jared only paid it half his attention. The other half focused on the woman sitting beside him. He was intensely aware of how close she sat to him. He could nearly feel her body heat warming his skin, making his heart pound fiercely within his chest.

At the same time, he kept a constant vigil for anything out of the ordinary. With Ava's attention glued to the television, she seemed distracted from any possible noises that might present themselves. Jared was there on a mission. He needed to remember why he was relaxing on the comfy sofa with the woman of his dream’s mere inches from him. He couldn't forget that.

The longer he sat, however, the more comfortable he became. The show, he had to admit, had always interested him. It was confusing at first, but with each short episode, the characters came to life and the story line began to weave in intricate mysteries that kept you on the edge of your seat.

Before he knew it, a few hours had passed and Ava had curled up beside him, her back against his chest. As intimate as it might seem, he knew she only saw him as a friend. Friends could cuddle, too. Although Jared probably enjoyed it more than he should. He leaned toward her, inhaling the sweet aroma of the shampoo she used. He closed his eyes, grateful that she faced away from him. His body hardened with want and need.

Two things he would forever feel near Ava.

He needed to accept it.

Somehow, he needed to come to terms with the fact that he was in love with his dead brother's wife. He had to force himself to accept it, but never act upon it. He could never show Ava how he truly felt, which was why he had avoided her for so long. It was growing difficult to keep control of his emotions. It was easier when he wasn't near her. Always reminded of her gentleness, her loving disposition, her sweet character. Not to mention her body, which he desired more than he could ever describe.

His hunger for her grew. He ached to be near her, touch her. And here he was, with her leaning against him for support and friendship, while he lusted after her.

Disgusted with himself, Jared shifted his position on the sofa. Ava moved away from him, glancing over her shoulder with worry.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine." He couldn't sit beside her any longer, imagining wrapping his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her soundly until she whimpered for more. "I just need to stretch my legs."

He grasped at any excuse to get away from her, but despised himself for the slightly wounded look on her face as he pulled away. He stood, walking across the living room, needing something to occupy himself and his thoughts away from Ava. To cool his heated body. He sauntered to the front door, pushing back the curtains to gaze outside. Snow was falling again. Tiny white flakes drifted from the heavens, already casting a thin coat on the porch and path leading to the driveway.

Maybe he should run outside, throw himself into a pile of snow to cool himself off. That might chase away any ideas he had of stripping the clothes off Ava and taking her on her own sofa.

"It's snowing again." His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

Ava spun on the sofa, pulling back the curtain by the window behind it. "Are you going to leave now?"

"No," Jared said quickly. His body insisted on staying, but his brain told him it was best to leave. However, he couldn't go knowing Ava remained here. Alone and frightened. He couldn't leave her like that.

Maybe he could take her back to his place?

No. That would spell disaster for them both. He couldn't do that either.

"I'll stay a little longer," he amended.

"You could stay here tonight."

Chapter 4

Ava sat with her legs curled beneath her, one hand still on the curtain as she stretched over the back of the sofa to lean her face near the window. The snow was gently falling, adding another layer to the already covered ground. She turned to look at Jared, standing frozen by the door.

She couldn't quite identify his expression. Was horror flickering in his eyes? Did the thought of spending the night in her haunted home fill him with dread? Or was it perhaps the thought of staying near her?

She'd gotten the impression things had changed between them. Changed in ways she didn’t understand. It broke her heart to see Jared drift away from her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ava."

She couldn't stop the pain of rejection that filled her heart. Well, of course, he wasn't rejecting her. Ava was sensible enough to admit that. She hadn't offered her body to him, or her heart, although she knew that was in jeopardy.

Ava nodded, but cast her gaze back to the window, hoping to conceal the hurt she feared might be reflected in her eyes. She didn’t want him seeing that.

"I've got... work tomorrow," Jared said feebly. She glanced his way in time to see the scowl darken his face.

"It's okay. You don't have to explain. I understand." Ava scooted away from the window, settling back on the sofa.

"No, I don't think you do," Jared muttered.

But Ava heard his softly spoken words.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Jared said, walking toward the kitchen. "You mind if I get something to drink? Water?"

"Help yourself, Jared. You know where everything is."

"You want anything?"

She shook her head and watched him dart into the kitchen, eager to get away from her. As soon as he was out of sight, she smoothed her hand over her forehead, rubbing the lines she was sure were etched there.

What was she doing? Why was she asking Jared to stay here? There had to be someone else who might help her with this. Someone she wasn't already half in love with. And it was clear that Jared didn't want to be there. She should tell him to go home.

Ava stared at the small undecorated fiber-optic Christmas tree that stood on the small table near the television. She should pack it away. Christmas was a week away, and she still had no desire to decorate.

It was just another Christmas she'd spend alone in this house.

The thought flickered through her brain, the image of her and Jared coming downstairs to open presents after a night of passionate lovemaking. Her chest ached at the thought.

That would never happen. Why did she torment herself with those kinds of images?

She was just about to stand to join Jared in the kitchen, to tell him it was time for him to go home, when she heard the footsteps.

It was just like before, the sound of booted feet scraping on the concrete floor in the basement.

A cold sensation shivered across her skin at the same moment she heard glass shattering on the kitchen floor. A second later, Jared appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide.

He didn't need to say anything, his expression said it all.

Did you hear that?

Ava nodded, her throat choked with emotion. Fear and grief of what might cause those sounds and relief that Jared could finally experience it. She wasn't alone. Someone else had finally heard the footsteps.

She wasn't going crazy. They were real.

Jared pointed his finger at her, indicating she should wait there, but Ava scrambled to her feet.

All these months, she hadn't been brave enough to venture into the basement when she heard the footsteps. It was only after the footsteps were gone that she'd ventured downstairs to investigate. With Jared at her side, she knew he'd keep her safe. But she had to know. She had to see for herself just what made the sounds of those footsteps.

Jared had turned away from her, and she spotted the gun in his hand. She hadn't seen where he'd gotten it. He must have brought it with him. His hand was at the doorknob of the basement door when she appeared in the kitchen. When he saw her, he nodded his head in the direction of the living room, but Ava shook her head fiercely.

"I'm going with you," Ava whispered. "I need to see."

Jared scowled, but didn't argue. The footsteps continued their pace back and forth along the basement floor. If Ava didn't know better, it sounded just like Jesse downstairs working on his projects. An ache of loss blossomed deep in her chest. Memories of a time that seemed a lifetime ago resurfaced.

She didn't have time to reminisce. Jared turned the doorknob, swinging the door open slowly. With weapon raised, he stepped slowly onto the top step. The footsteps continued, uninterrupted.

Jared took a deep breath, then plunged down the stairs, his legs moving so rapidly Ava thought he might fall. She followed, ducking to see into the basement before she finished stepping down the stairs.

She and Jared froze together at the bottom as they faced the intruder. The apparition of Jesse stood in front of the now finished rocking chair. Jared's hand wavered, and he lowered the weapon.

"Jesse?" Jared whispered his brother's name, but it sounded loud in the sudden silence.

Ava grasped the back of Jared's shirt, clutching the fabric in tight fists as she peeked around his shoulder at her husband's ghost.

"Jesse?" This time it was Ava's voice squeaking her husband's name as she released Jared's shirt and stepped around him.

Jesse looked as he did before the cancer ravaged his body. Before he lost his hair from the radiation treatments. There were no sunken eyes or sickly pale skin. He looked healthy and alive as she remembered him from the days shortly after their wedding. Dark hair, twinkling eyes, tanned skin.

He appeared as she wanted to remember, except this version of Jesse was slightly transparent. She could see through her husband's body.

He smiled broadly and gestured to the complete rocking chair in front of him.

"You... you..." Ava had difficulty forming words as she faced her husband's ghost. "You finished the chair?"

Ava took a step closer. The fear she'd felt when she first stepped into the basement evaporated. The chill in the room made the basement feel like the inside of a refrigerator. She wished she'd grabbed her jacket before coming down here. But the fear was gone, to be replaced by the warmth of love.

This was Jesse. Her husband. There was nothing to fear from him.

He pointed to one of the boxes stacked in storage. A box of decorations that sat untouched from last Christmas and the year before that. Ava hadn’t the heart to decorate for the holidays since Jesse passed away.

Was he trying to tell her something? Did he want her to decorate for Christmas? Why?

“Jesse…” She wanted to explain to him the reason she hadn’t pulled these boxes out since he’d left her. How she couldn’t bear to look at all the festive decorations when she knew she’d be spending the holidays alone? She’d started to decorate this year, determined to keep moving on with her life. But she’d stalled halfway through.

Who was she decorating for, anyway? She feared the holiday spirit she’d embraced since childhood had died along with her husband.

Jesse smiled again as he gazed at first her, then at Jared behind her. The smile was filled with happiness, peace and love. Ava found herself smiling back, despite the shock of witnessing her husband's ghost in her basement.

A second later, he vanished. The rocking chair swayed slightly as if he'd given it a gentle nudge before he left. Ava said nothing. Emotions swelled within her, love overwhelming the grief that had been a part of her for these last three years.

She'd said goodbye to him in the hospital when they knew he wouldn't make it much longer, but this felt... different. It was a better goodbye, filled with love and happiness.

She and Jared stood silent for a long time until the rocking chair came to a stop.

"Did..." Jared spoke in a whisper, still staring at the chair. "Did that just happen?"

Ava nodded.

Then she turned to the boxes of holiday decorations, curious why Jesse pointed at them. Slowly, she stepped closer to the boxes, glancing over her shoulder at the spot near the rocking chair, waiting to see him return. When he didn't, she opened the box he had indicated.

On top of the pile of packed Christmas ornament boxes sat an envelope. She felt Jared move beside her, peering over her shoulder. Ava picked up the envelope with trembling fingers. Opening it, she pulled out a folded piece of paper with writing on it.

"It's Jesse's handwriting," Ava said, her voice tight with emotion. She clasped it to her chest, realizing Jesse must have tucked it in the box before he went to the hospital that last time.

Jared’s hand rested on her shoulder, his fingers pressing with reassurance, offering her the strength she needed to read her husband’s last words to her.

She glanced again at the chair, expecting to see Jesse standing there again, smiling at her. She wasn’t psychic, nor did she believe she had any special sixth sense ability, but she had the distinct feeling that she would not be hearing Jesse’s footsteps any longer. He’d come back to get her attention, to fulfill one last wish. Complete the rocking chair and reveal the location of the letter he wanted her to read.

Ava turned away from Jared, walking to the chair where she reached a tentative hand to run her fingers along the smooth wood. Tears welled again. Without another word, she rushed by Jared, taking the steps two at a time to get out of the basement and into the kitchen.

She stood at the sink, clasping the letter again to her chest as she cried, letting the tears fall freely. Several long minutes later, she felt Jared behind her. He hadn’t said a word, but she knew he was there.

She turned to face him, seeing tears staining his cheeks, too. She gave him a wobbly smile, then walked into his open arms, resting her cheek against his chest. She sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of safety and love in his arms.

“I guess I know now I’m not crazy.” His shirt muffled Ava’s voice, but she knew Jared heard her. He rested his chin on her head, tightening his hold around her to offer comfort.

After a while, Jared’s voice rumbled, “The letter… What does it say?”

Ava straightened, nodding as she wiped her cheeks. She blinked and cleared her throat as she unfolded the letter. Her eyes skimmed the handwritten words to find Jesse’s signature at the bottom.

She cleared her throat a second time before reading aloud for Jared’s benefit.

"Dear Ava, I know things are going to be hard for a while, but I’m hoping by Christmas you’ll be ready to read this. You've been the best part of my life and I thank you for being a part of mine. We've had a good time together. I wouldn't change a thing—”

“Ava.” Jared stopped her from continuing. She lifted her startled gaze. “You don’t need to read it to me. This is for you, not me. It’s… private. I… uh… I should go. You don’t need me here anymore.”

He took a step back, but she reached out with her free hand to grab his arm.

“No,” she said, waving the letter. “I saw your name on here. He might have left a message for you, too.”

Jared scowled, but nodded. The look on his face told her clearly that he was uncomfortable listening to this message between husband and wife, but Ava couldn’t do this without him. She couldn’t read this letter without Jared with her.

Her gaze went back to the creased paper. “I know at first, you’ll grieve. For a while, at least. But I don’t want you to be alone. You have so much love in your heart. So much life to live. Please don’t spend it alone, mourning me forever. Find someone—”

Her voice broke as tears welled again. Even in death, Jesse worried for her.

“In fact, if I could pick the perfect man for you, it would be my brother, Jared..."

She heard Jared suck in a sharp breath. Ava's hand trembled as tears swelled, blurring her vision. She blinked them away.

"My last Christmas wish is for you to find each other. I know you loved him, maybe more than you loved me at one time, but he never saw it and things didn't work out back then. Since I benefited from that, hey, I'm not complaining. But you and Jared are the two most important people in my life. The two I love most in this world. It would make me happier than you can imagine if you both found the same happiness we shared."

She paused again, swiping at her eyes.

"He's going to need your help, Ava. He'll be hurting. I know you will, too. Help each other. Be there for each other. With a little luck, maybe find love as you were supposed to. Don't let things get in your way again. Speak up. Tell him how you feel, like you told me. He loves you, too. I know he does, how couldn’t he? And, Ava, don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Wherever I am, once you read this, I'll be just fine. I know you and Jared will be good together. Give Jared my love, and yours. You both deserve it. Merry Christmas, honey. Always, with love, Jesse."

The letter fell from her fingertips, landing on the kitchen table. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Jared after reading what Jesse had written. It was just like Jesse to bluntly spell out what he thought she should do. The man had never held back when he wished to speak his mind. Even coming to haunt his wife to get her to listen to him one last time.

She smiled, imagining how frustrated Jesse must have been that she hadn’t unpacked those decorations in three years so she could find the letter he wrote to her. He must have reasoned that by the time Christmas came around again, she’d be ready to hear the words he had to say to her.

“It’s just like Jesse to haunt me until he gets what he wants.” Ava played with the corner of the paper, folding it between her fingertips and then flattening it straight. “He was always stubborn, wasn’t he?”

Jared didn’t say a word. She saw his feet from the periphery of her vision, but she couldn’t turn to face him now. Jesse had known for years about Ava’s youthful crush on his brother. He’d never felt threatened with knowing she had enough room in her heart to love both men. And now, he took advantage of that knowledge.

“Maybe you were right,” she said, her lips trembling. “Maybe I shouldn’t have read it out loud.”

“Was he right?” Jared’s soft words sounded like a shout in the quiet room, stopping her from saying more. “Did you love me?”

“Of course, I did.” She smiled, weakly. Still, she kept her back to him, not having the courage to face him. “I still do, you know that.”

“No, I mean… More than just friends.”

She hesitated. This was the moment she yearned for and dreaded in equal measure. She could declare her true feelings for Jared or deny them. They could continue their friendship as it had always been, or she could take the chance to have more than just Jared as her friend. She could have him as a boyfriend, a companion… a lover.

She flushed, her heart fluttering rapidly.

A dozen questions flew through her brain as she analyzed her feelings and how she would answer him.

She enjoyed their friendship. She wanted nothing to change that. But she yearned for more. What if it didn’t work out between them? It would ruin their friendship completely.

Could she take that kind of risk?

And really, why was she agonizing over this, anyway? Jared had never stated in all this time that he thought of her as anything other than a dear friend. Her feelings for him might have grown into something more, but he’d never done or said anything different to give her any sign that he might want something more from her.

He’d probably see this letter as a way for his brother to boss him around, as brothers often did. Pretending to know what’s best for one another.

Still, she had to tell him the truth. It had been ready to burst from her on more than one occasion. If she didn’t tell him the truth about her feelings now, she might never tell him.

“Yes,” Ava said, at last. “I loved you. I still do. As more than just a friend.”

There, she’d said it. As she spoke, it was as if those words released a torrent of emotion. Freedom from hiding her feelings for him. It was out in the open now.

“You were always with someone. I never had the chance to tell you how I felt. Eventually, I moved on. I found Jesse, I fell in love, and we clicked. I knew I could be happy with him. I realized there would never be a perfect time to tell you how I felt. I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship, but I never stopped loving you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Jared’s hands pressed warmly on her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She didn’t need to say anything more. The look in his eyes spoke more than either of them could say.

His head dipped, his lips meeting hers. The kiss took her by surprise, but the shock only lasted a second before she reached her hands to wrap around his neck. Her body warmed with the glow of love as her lips parted, welcoming him as they deepened the unexpected kiss.

When he drew back, he placed another tender kiss along the side of her mouth and then the tip of her nose.

“Ava, I was a fool. I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t remember when or how it happened. It just did. By then, you were with my brother and I would never have…” His voice trailed off; his expression pained by the memories. “Before Jesse died, he made me promise to look after you, to take care of you. I didn’t realize until now that he was asking me for more, that he was giving me his blessing. I just didn’t see… Ava, I can never take my brother’s place—”

“No,” she said, understanding him. “I know that.”

“But I’ve loved you for so long, and after he died, I felt like I betrayed him by loving you. That’s why I haven’t called you back or checked in on you for so long. I was afraid you’d discover how I felt about you. I was afraid I’d betray my brother’s memory.”

“Jared, I…” Ava’s voice broke as tears shed anew while happiness surged within her heart, overflowing with joy as she listened to his confession. “I never believed I’d have a second chance at love. I’ve been thinking about you… about us for a while now. I know Jesse didn’t want me to close myself off. I knew he wanted me to find someone, but I couldn’t ever imagine loving anyone but you.”

“This letter says his Christmas wish was for us to find each other, to be together. I think he’s been haunting you because he wanted me here to find this, to know it’s okay.”

“Yes, I think so, too.” Ava smiled as she gazed into his eyes. “Do we need to find some mistletoe? It’s been a while since I’ve been kissed like that. I’d like to try it again more if you don’t mind.”

Jared grinned. “No mistletoe required.”

And he dipped his head to kiss her again.

The End

Enjoyed Jared and Ava’s story? Be sure to leave a review! Love ghosts? Be sure to pre-order my Valentine’s Day ghost romance, Her Haunted Valentine. Sign up for my newsletter to receive updates on more romances like this one. And don’t forget to grab your FREE copy of Night of the Full Moon, a stand-alone steamy short story paranormal romance! Thank you for reading! Happy Holidays!

About the Author

Tricia Schneider is a multi-genre romance author. She believes there is a book for everyone. A sentiment she gained after a decade of working as Assistant Manager and bookseller at Waldenbooks. After the store closed, she turned to writing full-time, publishing paranormal, historical, fantasy, sci-fi and gothic romances.

Tricia lives in Pennsylvania with her four children and two rescued cats, Harley and Cassius. When she’s not typing away on her laptop, she’s riding shotgun in a ’67 Impala while keeping her eyes open for a madman in a Big Blue Box.

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Read More of Tricia’s Books

The Merriweather Witches

The Witch and the Wolf

The Witch and the Vampire

The Witch’s Thief

The Witch’s Kiss

Cougar Shifters

Loving Boone

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Claiming Cody

Other Titles

The Pirate’s Lady

Ice Princess

The Mermaid

Her Haunted Valentine

Anthologies & Collections

Pirates: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology

A Wink and a Smile Anthology

A Kiss and a Promise Anthology

Stolen and Seduced

Captured and Captivated

Falling for Shifters

A Cursed All Hallows’ Eve

Holidays Bite

A Very Alien Christmas

Alien Embrace

Her Mane Escort

J. A. Belfield

About Her Mane Escort

From a charity auction, to a stroll in the park, to the craziest night of her life. Nicole Harrington can't help but wonder how a simple event went so drastically wrong.

Of course, the male escort she booked is wholly to blame.

Not only charming but shrewdly intelligent, Benjamin Gold drags Nicole into a platoon of unimaginable problems-ones from which she'll have to find the courage just to survive.

Chapter 1

“Urgh.” I marched the width of my living room for the hundredth time, before wedging my stilettos into the shag-pile in front of the mirror. “Why do I subject myself to such …” I threw up my hands.

My tenant’s reflection stared back at me from over my shoulder. “Craptapular evenings just to keep your flipping family happy?” One brown eyebrow rose above the sardonic expression in Kellie’s hazel eyes.

“Yes, but …” I groaned and leaned forward, teasing my ebony fringe into perfect alignment and prodding at my French twist. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I mean, an escort, for goodness sake.” A quick appraisal assured my black cocktail dress hugged where it should beneath my scarlet swing coat. “Like I’m some bloody saddo incapable of acquiring a date of her own.”

“You have nabbed a date. That’s the whole point.”

“Okay, incapable of nabbing a date that doesn’t cost me five grand for a few hours of his time.”

“Five grand? Holy frickin’ cow, Cole.”

I met her reflected gaze. “You gave me the bloody number.”

“Yeah, because they had prices starting from fifty quid.”

“Fifty quid was for a date with Quasimodo. No point doing this if I’m not going to take something to keep the vultures off my back.”

“True.” She nodded. “Very true … but …” At the chime of the doorbell, she spun away, as I whirled on the spot. “Forget it,” she said, already moving for the hallway. “I’ll see for myself what five grand worth of man looks like.”

Frozen in place, I could only listen as she vanished into the hallway and her socked feet brushed over the floorboards. The catch twisted. The front door whooshed open.

“Nicole Harrington?” Disbelief tinged the deep, masculine tone.

“Would you like me to be?”

As I thought of what confronted him, Kellie in her Snoopy fleece shorts, peeling and faded Iron Maiden T-shirt, and hiking socks that had long ago lost any elasticity, I snorted out a laugh.

“Ignore her,” I said. “She’s just my tramp of a housemate. Come on in.”

“What’d you do that for?” Kellie said. “I almost had him.”

A deep chuckle preceded the delicate clop of a shoe on the floorboards. A moment later, one black clad shoulder peeked around the living room door, followed by a shock of honey blond hair and amber eyes.

Nice.

His left eyebrow arched up. “Nicole?”

Head tilted in an attempt to see the rest of him around the door, I nodded. “My friends call me Cole. Might be best if you stick to that this evening.”

He crossed the room in a few easy strides, his hand already outstretched. “Benjamin Gold.” He smiled down at me as I slid my fingers across his. “And I very much doubt you want to know what my friends call me.”

I breathed out a small laugh. “I’ll be sure not to ask.” Ignoring Kellie’s mimes of approval behind the escort’s back—ones that looked suspiciously like she groped an invisible butt with her face screwed up—I pointed toward the door. “Shall we?”

“Of course.” He spun for the exit, sending a nod toward Kellie as she snapped to attention. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too.” She smiled.

I trailed behind Benjamin as he led the way to the exit and opened the front door. My sole had barely hit the outer deck, when fingers clamped around my upper arm and hauled me back into the hallway.

“What the heck, Kel—”

“Listen,” she hissed. “For freak’s sake, don’t sleep with him. Something that cute’ll cost you a small mortgage to pay the extra fees.”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not you. The advice is unwarranted.”

“Good point.” She patted my arm and released me, but grabbed hold again as I went to step away. “On second thought, do it. Besides the fact that you can afford it, you need the action, babe.”

I pried her fingers from my bicep. “Bye, Kellie.”

“What? I’m right, though, aren’t I? You need to get you som—”

“Goodnight, Kellie.”

“Fine, fine. Have fun.”

Beneath the first snowflakes of the season, I began my descent toward where my ‘date’ waited at the garden gate.

“Meanwhile, I’ll stay here,” Kellie continued. “Alone. Probably get accosted by a burglar and have to deal with him all on my own.” Her sigh arrived heavy, before she added, “Not that I’ll mind if he’s hawt.”

“With a bit of luck, he’ll look like a troll and carry you off to his bridge,” I said, pivoting to face her. “And then I’ll find a housemate who actually pays their rent.”

She stuck out her tongue at me as I spun to walk away.

A silver Mercedes hummed at the kerbside beyond the gate, a shadowed outline all I could see of the driver.

“I prefer my own vehicle to the more impersonal ones of the agency,” Benjamin said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Had it been a rust-bucket Allegro, or something else equally hideous, my answer would have been a resounding no. Instead, I shook my head, smiling when he opened the rear door with a wave of his arm.

Heat blasted from the vents within—a vast comparison to the chilled winter evening—and the interior smelled of freshly-treated leather when I settled into my seat.

Once Benjamin had closed my door, dark eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror. Though the driver didn’t turn, I found myself grateful when the other door opened and Benjamin slid in beside me.

He tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Horton Gallery, Drake.”

Without a word uttered, the car eased away from the kerb as smooth as a spectre. The soft drone of the engine seemed to lull us into passivity, while the delicate handling of the vehicle barely swayed me in my seat. Streetlamps spilled their glow through the windshield, though they barely penetrated the tinted glass of the rear windows.

“You needn’t worry.” At Benjamin’s murmur, I angled my head to see him and found his eyes already aimed my way.

“Worry about what?”

“About what your friend said back at the house.” His teeth glowed white with his smile. “I’d never dream of charging for sex I’d initiated.”

Twenty minutes of evening-debriefing later, we stepped arm-in-arm through the entrance of Horton Gallery. Snow dusted the shoulders and hood of my scarlet coat and of Benjamin’s black jacket, and an upward glance showed even more clinging to the tips of his hair like diamante ornaments.

I shrugged out of the damp garment, and like the gentleman I’d paid him to be, Benjamin took it from me. After a promise to ensure it would be hung somewhere to dry, he weaved his way toward the cloakroom, leaving me to stand alone in the high-ceilinged foyer.

Beyond the double doors ahead, people milled about, nodding and smiling, while their twitchy or glazed eyes exposed their boredom. Each and every one of them wore more in value than they’d donate when the charity auction began—if not in clothing, then most certainly in the adornments that battled with the overhead chandeliers for impressiveness.

No doubt my lack of jewellery would earn me a few stares.

“Ready?”

Benjamin’s voice snapped me from my bitter appraisal, and I nodded, hooking my fingers over the crook of his offered arm. “Into the lion’s den we go.”

“Trust me,” he said, leading the way, “this is not a lion’s den.”

I went to ask what he meant, but the second we stepped from the foyer, Angela Hopberry accosted us.

“Darling.” Her puckered coral pink lips did their usual air kisses in the direction of my cheeks. “How lovely that you came.” The moment she straightened, her attention roamed over Benjamin like a wave across the beach. “You’re a dark one, Cole—keeping it quiet about the new trophy.”

I released a sigh. “Benjamin, this is Angela. Angela, Benjamin.”

Angela had yet to remove her gaze from my partner. “And you’ve been seeing Cole how long? What line of business are you in? You’re not a local boy, are you?”

Benjamin didn’t even bat an eye. His hand slid around my back, drawing me closer. “Coley snared me …”

I bristled. Coley?

“… four days, seven hours, and approximately twenty-three minutes ago …”

Christ, don’t overdo it. Though, that had been about the time I’d booked him.

“… I have ties in the motoring industry, and no … I’m not from around here.” He grinned. “You have seventeen left.”

Angela’s lips hovered in an ‘o’ of non Comprendre.

“It was a joke.” When her expression didn’t change, he added, “I thought maybe we were playing twenty questions?”

“Oh.” Angela swatted at him, giving a tinkled laugh that didn’t quite reach her still confused stare. “I see I shall have to keep my eye on you.”

“You do that.” He nodded with a smile. “And while it was lovely meeting you, I fear my young lady requires refreshment.”

Before either Angela or I could protest, Benjamin’s arm tightened across my back and led me away.

“That was a little rude,” I said, once we were out of earshot.

“Yes, well … I’m not here to keep Angela entertained. My job is to ensure you have a good night. And you’d begun to look as though you’d rather be somewhere else.” Benjamin nabbed a flute of champagne from a passing silver tray and handed it to me, grabbing a second for himself. “Now, tell me, why have you come here tonight when you’ve been tense since the moment we stepped through the entrance?”

Because I have no choice. Because my father will probably disown me if I falter in my dance steps to his tune any more than I already have. “I thought being an escort meant you just nodded and smiled in all the right places …” … while warding off letchy exes who can’t accept I’ve moved on.

He chuckled. “Sorry, Cole, but you should have booked one of the less refined options if you wanted a date without a brain.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said.

“I know. Just teasing.” His arm slid tighter around my back, his fingers hooking over my far hip.

I ignored how good it felt to be held when I hadn’t been in so long.

Chapter 2

For almost an hour, I avoided detection by said ‘letch’ before he finally caught up with me. As I stared at one of the auction pieces, my head tipped to mirror Benjamin’s beside me, the chill along my left side warned of Tony’s arrival.

His chest brushed my arm, lips infringed on my personal space, and breath sweated my ear with his whispered, “Figured out what it is, Cole?”

Benjamin shifted in my periphery, and a step brought him to face me in a way that spoke volumes, especially with his left hand claiming my waist. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Tony’s smirk faltered for a second, before his smarmy façade reclaimed his face. As though Benjamin hadn’t even spoken, he turned to me. “I didn’t realise you were bringing a guest, Cole. You should have said.”

“I did …” Though I attempted to hold steady, my gaze averted from his as fast as it connected. “… to the name on the invitation for the R.S.V.P.’s.”

His head immediately snapped up and round, eyes searching the room—probably looking for Belinda Watton, the event organiser, so he could let rip about being kept out of the loop.

From his dark, oily hair, his cool green eyes, to his lean body perpetually draped in the most impeccable fabrics, just the sight of Tony Lawson set my teeth on edge, and I wondered how I’d ever stomached him for the six months I had. If not for my father’s encouragement—more like demands—for me to make it work, I’d have dumped the slime-ball within the first hour. When he told me he intended to tame me and ensure I carried his offspring, because between the two of us we could create beautiful people to continue the Lawson Legacy, I should have dumped Champagne on his head.

Pity my calling off what he considered to be a written-in-stone engagement hadn’t dampened his ideals. For the past three and a half years, the arse had continued to treat me like his personal property while following a whole different set of rules for himself.

“Is Jackson here?” Tony’s gaze swung back to me, his mask once more in place, but his even tone couldn’t disguise the intent of his words. He wanted to know if my father approved of another man escorting me to a social event. “I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

“He couldn’t make it.” Hence the reason I’d been forced to represent the all-important family name. “He sends his apologies, though.”

“He should have mentioned if you had no one to bring you.” His clammy hand touched my shoulder—until a nudge of my body by Benjamin broke the contact. “I could have saved you—”

“I don’t need you to save me from anything, Tony.” My teeth ground. “I’ve moved—”

“She’s always a little tetchy at the beginning of the evening.” Tony smiled in Benjamin’s direction, thumbing toward the rear of the room. “Bar’s that way. I always find a few Chardonnays help loosen her up. Be a pal and get some down her for me ...”

What sounded like a low growl rumbled from Benjamin.

“And as for you, Cole?” Tony’s knuckle chucked my chin. “I’ll come find you later.”

As he sauntered off with his cloying air of self-importance, Benjamin glared after him, the muscles in his jaw rigid. “Who. The hell. Was that?”

My nose wrinkled beneath my grimace. “My ex. Dumped for being a dick.”

“With a capital D. Is he always like that?”

I gave a small nod. “Pretty much.”

Benjamin set his honey eyes back toward me, and the tension provoked by Tony’s presence seemed to fade from my shoulders. “No wonder you look as though you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

I stared up at him, nerves dancing in my stomach. He stood close to me—even more so when he ducked his face toward mine, and his lips skimmed from my cheek to my ear.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you.”

For the following ninety minutes, I gave Benjamin the reins. Each time his arm stiffened around my back and steered me in a different direction, I didn’t once question his decision. It wasn’t as though the room held anyone I had a desire to speak to, anyway. Besides, the glimpses I caught of Tony each time gave more than enough reason for me to trust Benjamin’s instincts.

Five further accosts, and a few Martini’s later, Benjamin drew me to stand behind a glass sculpture that resembled a screwed-up wad of cling-film. “This place is beginning to drive me crazy.”

Not half as much as it bothered me, I’d have wagered.

“My entire role balances on my ability to ensure a woman has as pleasurable an evening as possible.”

My eyebrow arched up. I’ll bet.

“Not like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, blew out a breath. “I feel like I’m failing you.” His frown made me believe a Benjamin failure had never happened before. “Listen, Cole. How much longer are you expected to show your face here?”

My father’s orders from a week before clanged through my head: ‘You will go to the charity auction, young lady. No argument. It’s high time you accepted the family name and what that entails. And you will represent the family name for the entire evening. Do you understand me?’

I also recalled my meek response.

With a heavy sigh, I grimaced up at Benjamin. “Until it ends.”

He growled—actually growled—at me.

“Tell me, Benjamin.” I folded my arms. “Do you usually complain to your date about where she asks you to escort her?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“But my date doesn’t usually look as though she’d rather be prying out her own fingernails with pliers than socialising with a bunch of shallow-minded folk who haven’t quite mastered the art of smiling with their eyes.”

“They—”

“You’re better than these people, Cole. Let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere I can prove to you that a night out with me can be enjoyable.”

“I …” can’t. I sighed as it dawned on me how much his offer appealed, even if the words had described my life to a T.

He continued to gaze down at me, expectancy and hope gleaming in his eyes, and I knew there and then he’d never understand my reasoning.

Rather than try to explain, I took my usual coward’s route. “Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

Coral tiles, pine disinfectant, and a bouffant of ash-blonde hair greeted me as I pushed through the door into the toilets. The woman poked at high strands that resembled wire wool as she leaned over the counter, puckering her red lips at the mirror. She barely even offered a glance my way as I ducked past into the first cubicle.

I closed the door and leaned back against it. Beyond the barrier, footsteps clopped to the exit, telling me the bouffant bird left, and as a heavy sigh heaved my chest, my lids lowered.

What on earth had made me think an escort would simplify the evening? Why the heck had I listened to Kellie and her stupid idea? More than that, why couldn’t the agency have sent a pretty boy who simply looked good on my arm and knew when to keep his opinions to himself?

For as long as I could remember, I’d never gone against my father’s wishes. Nothing had ever seemed solid enough to fight for. Though, the older I grew, the more independent I became, and the more breaking free dangled like bait waiting for me to snap it up in my jaws. I barely understood the hold he seemed to have—not just over me, but over Mother, too—so no way would a stranger comprehend my life.

I rolled my eyes at myself as they opened. Why did it even matter when I wouldn’t see Benjamin once the night ended, anyway?

I doubted he’d agree to a second event with the Parade of Pretentiousness.

I checked my watch as I spun and hiked up my dress. Only nine-twenty—meaning I had at least two more hours before I could acceptably leave. Urgh.

The bathroom door swung with a suction-like pop, and heels clipped into the room. I tracked them to the sinks, only half-registering the second shove of the door.

“Lois, darling.”

Lois Cambridge could have single-handedly kept Tiffany’s in business with the bling she forever flashed. The speaker—Clara Edington—held little more appeal with her pandering to the wealthy in a bid to snare a rich husband.

I sent a silent prayer of thanks that I’d been enclosed prior to the entrance of those two.

“Did you see him?” Clara asked, her voice taking on a conspiratorial edge.

“See who?” Lois’s voice dropped to an exaggerated whisper, as though joining in some kind of secret game.

“Your ex. I swear I saw him earlier with Cole.”

Say what?

“My … ex?” Either Lois hadn’t recently split with anyone, or she’d split with so many she had trouble figuring out which one. “Sorry, who?”

My question exactly.

“That hunk of yours you brought to the Mardi Gras fiasco last month ...” An event I had managed to wiggle out of. “… You know, the one with the golden hair and muscles to die for?”

My entire body stiffened.

“What was his name again?”

Please don’t say it, please don’t say it …

“Benjamin?” Utter shock dripped from the singular word. “Benjamin’s here?”

Though Clara didn’t verbally respond, I imagined her smug nod of satisfaction.

“Benjamin’s here?” Lois asked again. Silence followed, then, “Oh, crap.”

“Oh, darling. Bad breakup, was it?”

“Um … not … really.” Lois couldn’t have sounded more uncomfortable—and the realisation of what capacity she’d been with Benjamin that night sent a wash of horror through me. “Benjamin … and I were … barely together long enough for … um …”

“Pity. The guy’s yummy. Darling, you must say hello.” A clop of a heel followed—like poor Lois had been yanked forward. “And who knows …” The bathroom door squeaked open. “… he might even be pleased to see you. Goodness knows, Cole’s barely in his leag—” The door whooshed shut.

My lips popped open in the ensuing quiet, hanging there a split second. “Oh, Christ—Benjamin.”

The bathroom stood empty when I flew from the cubicle, and I dived through the door, landing myself amongst the minglers of the toilet passage with less dignity than a spread-eagled turkey.

“Excuse me.” I shuffled between two of my father’s acquaintances while hoping like crazy they wouldn’t stall me to talk.

I could imagine the scene if Lois reached Benjamin first, could picture the knowing glances she’d send me. She’d know I’d hired him. Worse than that, she’d know no obstacle stood in her way of flirting and would no doubt attempt to score for herself.

No way could I tolerate that for an entire evening. The socialite bongos would spread the gossip faster than a bushfire. Cole’s Date Stolen by Lois—Hear All About It!

Please be where I left you.

Worst case scenario, I thought, as I peered over shoulders and dodged bodies on my way to the cellophane sculpture, if Lois and her cheerleader got to him first, I’d just stroll right on past and make a hasty exit alone.

I caught the flash of golden curls, right where I left them—him. Yes.

As though he sensed my approach, he turned, and as his gaze swung around until it connected with mine, his lips started to curve before quickly twisting into a frown.

Did I look that flipping harried?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the second I reached him.

Grabbing his arm, I yanked him to follow without breaking stride. “Time to go.”

“What’s he done?”

“Who?” My eyes scoured every inch of the room for possible ambush.

“That idiot ex of yours.”

“What?” I glanced back at him, almost stumbling as I rounded a deserted chair. “Oh—not him. I’ll explain. Let’s just get outside first.”

Chapter 3

A blanket of white covered the pavement, but Benjamin’s hands at my elbow and waist helped keep me upright. I explained the hasty escape, his steps lengthening with each revelation until we’d rounded the corner and stood out of sight of the building’s entrance.

He tucked in a wayward hair poking from my hood and tickling my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hazard of the job, I guess.” A gust blew beneath my dress, freezing my bum cheeks and making me wish I’d worn tights instead of stockings, and a huge shiver wracked my shrug.

“You’re freezing.” He opened his jacket, unzipped his inner pocket, and retrieved his phone. “I’ll call for the car.”

After the asphyxiating atmosphere of the gallery, of the sheep flocked within there, the fresh night air hit my brain like a dizzying drug I couldn’t quite get enough of, and I found myself reaching to stall him. “Not … yet.”

“Okay.” He smiled, slipping the mobile back in. “What did you want to do?”

I shrugged, my palm lifting along with the action. “I’ve no idea.”

“Well, maybe we should at least walk. Keep your blood pumping … while we decide what to do.”

“Not much to do.” I took his offered arm and allowed him to tuck me in close to his side, following his lead when he stepped down off the kerb and into the road. “If I go back in there with you, they’ll be waiting to pounce. If I go back in alone, they’ll think I’ve been dumped mid-evening, and Tony’ll turn into his usual drink-fuelled-paw-monster. If I don’t go back at all, my father’ll go absolutely nuts in the morning.” I blew out a breath as we climbed the opposite kerb onto the pavement that ran the length of the local park. “No matter what I do, the evening’s a mess.”

“And it’s my fault.”

“That’s not what I mea—”

“Maybe not. But it’s still the truth.” He ducked as though to shield me, as breeze-provoked flakes tumbled down from an overhanging branch. “How about you let me make it up to you?”

Foot hovering mid-step, I peered up at him.

He chuckled. “Not like that.” His arm unhooked mine and slid around to my back, nudging me forward with gentle persuasion. “I meant, you should let me show you the kind of evening you could have had.”

“You really like to earn your keep, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tucking my hands into my coat pockets, I smiled.

For a handful of beats, we didn’t speak, merely wandered our way along the footpath, snow crunching beneath our feet with each step. My mobile weighed heavy in the clutch-bag I had wedged beneath my right arm, and the temptation to call a taxi and slink home beckoned. The mere idea of joining Kellie in a PJ-and-chocolate fest, curled next to the radiator while watching a crappy horror, almost had me snatching the phone out … until reality kicked in—and with it the realisation that the second I got home, I’d have to hear all my father’s voice messages on the answer phone. I’d never told him I had a mobile for good reason.

On top of that, I’d have to hear Kellie’s tirade about my stupidity at turning down the chance for a half-decent night.

“Okay.” My nod fuzzed my hair beneath my hood. “What did you have in mind?”

“Ever heard of Flunkies?”

I laughed. “I’d have to say not. What is it?”

“The. Best. Doughnut. Bar. Ever. And it’s open all night.” His face peered beneath my hood. “You game?”

“Hmm, let me think … doughnuts … how far?”

“Other side of here.” He wrapped his fingers around the bars of the wrought iron gate to Mersion Park.

The entrance squawked a little beneath the nudge of his hand with no bolt or padlock to hold it secure. Beyond the poor barrier, patches of snow coated the ground. More shrouded the enclosing hedgerow that stood sentry alongside the fence and prettied the trees, turning what could have been downright creepy into a winter wonderland, as each crystallised droplet sparkled in the dotted lamplight.

I halted. “Why do we need to go through the park?”

He shrugged. “We could go around.” He pointed off to the right, toward where the end of the street and the park perimeter faded to shadow, too far away for any kind of clear definition. “But the park’s a shorter route. And the paths will be gritted.” He turned back, his gaze travelling from my feet to my face. “I figured it the fastest route.”

I drew in a deep breath, peering once more into the abandoned plot. Nothing within set any alarm bells a-ringing. Certainly, nothing about the man beside me did—and hadn’t since the moment he’d collected me from home. “Okay,” I found myself saying, “lead the way.”

The quietness we left behind seemed like a riot ground next to that of the deserted park. Though snow lined the trees either side, small icy patches still clung to the path, and would have foiled my steps if not for the grip of my killer heels.

“You often go to parks after dark?” I asked.

“I don’t really need to.” His hold tightened on my arm when my foot slipped an inch. “There’s a vast patch of woodland around a half mile from my home. I just go there when the mood dictates.”

“In the dark?”

“Night-time’s the best. Besides the added challenge of visibility, the entire aura of the space alters the moment the sun dips and the moon rises to take her place.”

My eyebrows rose a little. Deep. “You must really love it there.”

“Certainly do. Less people traffic means more wildlife, too.”

“Surely that just makes it more dangerous?” I’d heard badgers could get pretty mean.

He shrugged. “Had a family of Kite move in for the winter. I think they must have got confused and missed the mark on their real destination.”

“Senile birds.” My fingers wiggled in mock horror. “Terrifying creatures. That the best you got?”

“No. There’s also a fox and his family, an entire army of scary rabbits … lions …”

“Lions? In Hereford?” A small laugh escaped.

“You’d be amazed by what you see when you wander around at night, Cole.” Although his lips curved up, and only humour dominated his tone, his eyes held a seriousness I struggled to interpret—one that sent a shiver through me and not from the cold.

“In the woods, I mean,” he said with a low chuckle.

Of course he did. I pulled my coat tighter around my neck.

“Dare to find out?” His low voice seemed to hold a bunker-full of promises as he gestured toward the infestation of trees that passed as the park’s woodland.

If you go down to the woods today … As the childhood nursery rhyme spun through my mind, my body stiffened.

“Relax, Cole.” A chuckle. “I’m just kidding.” He released my elbow, his arm sliding around my back.

For some reason, the flippant humour in his tone, the security of his hold, seemed to ease the tension claiming my shoulders. While the lack of sound in the park should have unnerved, it didn’t, and my heels once more picked up their lazy cadence.

“It’s so quiet,” I murmured, almost coming to a stop before Benjamin’s arm nudged me forward. Even the drone of engines from roads I knew to be no more than a half mile away barely reached us.

“It reminds me of winter in the woods,” he said. “Where nothing else exists beyond the perimeter your soul creates.”

My gaze lifted toward him, though I saw only the red of my hood. “Sounds ominous.”

He chuckled, low and throaty, drawing tightness to my stomach. “It was meant to sound enticing.”

“Those doughnuts had better be pretty special,” I muttered, ignoring the implication of his words—as well as the effect he seemed to be having on my body. “My toes are bloody freezing.”

“I’ll warm them when we get there.” His gentle squeeze swayed me a little. A wayward branch trembled as he flicked it from our trail. “And I can vouch for the cruller … though it’s nowhere near as special as the company I’m keeping.”

A slow smile spread my lips before I could stop it—until I remembered who I was with and our circumstances. “I’ll bet you say that to all your dates.”

“Actually—” His arm stiffened across my back, his fingers digging into my waist and bringing me to a halt.

I reached up for my hood, went to tug it back to see what had stumbled his flow, but barely moved it more than an inch when a guy, then a second and third stepped into our path.

Left to right, all three of them looked big enough to bruise a sumo, and pissed enough to throw a punch.

A gulp lodged in my throat.

“Benjamin Gold.”

He knows them?

The one in the middle, who’d spoken, had hair the colour of fallen sycamore leaves and wore head-to-toe black like he was auditioning for a role as the Milk Tray Man. “What brings you to Horton tonight?”

“Just passing through, Ivan,” Benjamin said. “Permit me to escort the lady elsewhere, and I’ll gladly come back and discuss this with you.”

“You and I both know it should have been ‘discussed’”—he actually did air quotes—“prior to you being here. Little late for an appeal, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’d have to say not.”

I really wanted to ask Benjamin what the heck he was supposed to be appealing for, but something told me not to take my attention off the men—especially the duo at Ivan’s sides—who stood in attire no more flamboyant than the one they flanked. The only item missing from their secret service getup was an earpiece with coiled wire tucked into their jackets.

Ivan’s attention skipped to me, like he’d only just noticed I stood there. “Maybe the lady could appeal to us on your behalf.” The way his gaze trailed south gave me the creeps.

“The lady has nothing to do with this.” Benjamin’s voice held a deepness that bordered on gruff.

A low thrum of power seemed to surround us until my fingertips tingled, and my lips turned more numb. Without even a full understanding of the situation, my heart stumbled.

Benjamin’s arm swung me against his chest, and his gaze dipped to meet mine.

Before my mouth could even open to ask, What the bloody hell’s going on? Benjamin’s hands gripped my waist, and he threw me so fast my eyes could scarcely decode the blurred outlines that whizzed past.

My bum met with something hard that vibrated beneath the blow.

My skull collided with something solid enough to send sparks sizzling through my brain.

Once they fizzled out, a heavy blackness moved in and coated my thoughts with the intensity of asphyxiation—until, like fireworks exploding beyond my visual shutters, light penetrated my lids with enough power to send an ache right through to the back of my eyeballs, jolting me from whatever shadows I’d retreated to.

I let out a sharp cry, jerked to the right, my head banging against something solid and as rough as old bark. With a groan, I pressed a hand to my head, finding tenderness beneath a duet of abrasions. As the harsh glare dimmed away, an inhuman growl rumbled through the trees until every hair erected along the curve of my spine.

When a hissing erupted like the woods had been struck by a sudden snake invasion, my eyes flicked open.

I let out a gasp, my mouth stretching into a ridiculous O, and snatched my legs up until my knees hit my chin.

The broad limb of a tree supported my rear around eight feet from the ground, and beneath my dangling feet, the craziest scene I had ever witnessed filled the air with growls and hisses and crashes and snaps, as rabid-looking beasts rolled about and attacked one another.

Against my better judgment, I stared harder through the melee, identifying what looked like a lion—a freaking lion—two panthers, and a black … Pitbull?

The side to side whipping of my head could scarcely keep up with the frantic darts, leaps, pivots, and lunges.

Tearing my gaze from the insanity, I made a rapid scan through the trees and foliage, wondering where the hell my date had gone and why the heck he’d … Why the heck did he leave me here?

No golden hair caught the moonlight, though. No broad shoulders clothed in black.

Way to go, Cole. You picked a date that dumps a girl in a zoo fed on rage.

I gave another rapid scan. Maybe I hoped a solution to my problem of being stuck in a tree above rampant beasties would suddenly appear. Maybe it would have—if my gaze hadn’t landed on the scattered and shredded remains of clothing.

The kick-off of one of the panthers sent a strip of white fabric spiralling upward to meet me. As though on autopilot, my hand shot out to snatch hold of it and brought the scrap to my nose.

The cotton carried a muskiness blended with sandalwood that I hadn’t realised, until that moment, I’d smelled the entire night.

Benjamin.

I let out a sob and searched the ground again.

No Benjamin.

Bastards had eaten him.

What if I’m their next meal?

As I studied the ground and realised only clothing remained of Benjamin, another sob erupted.

The lion landed from a dive. Its head turned my way.

When the feline’s gaze connected with mine, I slammed a hand over my mouth. Like that could stem the sudden onset of hyperventilation.

The twin amber orbs somehow radiated concern and regret in a single glance, the spilling emotions making them appear far too human.

Benjamin.

I had no idea why his name popped into my head, but in the next half second, I studied the golden fur framing the eyes, the likeness to a certain someone much closer than I had any intention of accepting.

Insane.

The connection snapped as one of the panthers smacked into the lion’s shoulder with a victorious roar and sent the lion soaring.

Shaking my head clear, I grabbed hold of a neighbouring branch and wriggled until my bum slid off its perch.

A small squeak escaped when my body dropped way faster than anticipated, followed by a cry I forced quiet when my shoulders burned against the strain, and my useless fingers slipped. As my feet hit the ground, my knees crumbled, the collision between my shoulder and the trunk saving me from a full-out tumble. I glanced toward the scrapping animals.

The lion could barely be seen amongst the attack of black beasts—until the golden head thrust upward, parting the way with the force of a volcano. Its teeth locked around the throat of the Pitbull, and with a toss of its powerful head, the lion sent the dog flying until it bounced off a tree with a piercing yelp.

In the next breath, roars, hisses, and growls set my pulse rocketing, as the two panthers attempted reciprocation, and the three felines blurred in a dizzying roll—away from me.

Move yourself, Cole. Snapping my attention from the tussling cats, I took off in the opposite direction as fast as my stupid heels would allow.

By only the faint glow of the winter moon, I speed-trotted around trees and branches, getting sprayed by a fine mist of snow any time I didn’t veer wide enough. More than once I cursed my blasted footwear as my feet wobbled, my ankles almost twisting beneath the force of my unhinged steps. If not for the straps securing the shoes, I’d have kicked the offending articles off.

Come on, come on.

Around one trunk, and another, my breaths panted from me, each one seemingly shorter than the last.

A badly-judged dodge resulted in a scratch across my cheek, before the assaulting twig caught in my hair and yanked strands from their binding. I gave a low cry, tears threatening to well at the ridiculously terrifying situation I’d gotten myself into. I only prayed my feet carried me in the right direction.

Though, with the preceding luck of the night as a pointer, I’d probably end up travelling full circle and land myself right back into the thick of it all.

A quiet boom-boom pattern of noise chased me.

My chin whipped up and round, my eyes flittering in an attempt to see all directions at once.

Only branches waved like hag’s fingers beckoning me closer.

The beat hit ground somewhere off to my right.

My head spun that way.

Shadows danced as wood and brush trembled in the breeze.

Tearing my gaze back ahead, I willed myself faster, arms winging back and forth with each manic step.

Something thumped right behind me.

I shrieked.

A heavy force rammed against my back.

The ground surged to meet my body, but a belt made of steel wrapped around my torso, pinning my arms before they could flail.

When my feet left the ground, and my body bulleted forward, breath evaded me. My mind caught up with the rapid haze of passing trees and the realisation that someone had grabbed me.

I opened my mouth wide, releasing a scream of banshee proportions, and kicked back like a mule.

A grunt told me I’d struck well—just as a hand slapped over my mouth. “Hush, they’ll hear us.”

Benjamin? Though the question actually left my throat as ‘Em-um-im?’

“Yes, relax.” His panted breaths heated the side of my neck. “Dammit, Cole. Why couldn’t you just stay put?”

Light headedness speared through my brain as the girder about my ribcage tightened with each bounding jolt of his body. Trees rushed toward us, Benjamin’s weaving missing them by inches. Tiny screams squeaked from me at every turn.

The trees thinned and railings appeared through breaks in brush. I wanted to gush out a sigh of relief, except Benjamin’s palm stalled even that.

“Get the gate,” he said, aiming us straight for it.

My hand went to lift. His arms didn’t allow it.

“The gate, Cole.”

Hauling my knees up, I booted out with both legs the second we reached it, a clang ringing through the air as it shot outward to allow access.

Without breaking stride, Benjamin burst out onto the pavement, raced across the road to the opposite side of the street, and bolted into an alley as dark as a cavern.

My heels scraped concrete, my knees wobbling as my weight settled onto them.

The hand left my mouth, and Benjamin spun me until my back hit the side of whatever building hid us.

I gasped in a few breaths. “What the flipping heck’s going on?”

He placed a finger to his lips.

“Do you know those men, Benjamin?”

With a little shush sound, his gaze left mine, and he stepped to the left.

My attention followed him into the faint spray of lamplight.

All of him.

All six and a half naked feet of him.

My eyes widened.

He reached out, wrapping his fingers around the corner of the wall. The movement sent a ripple through muscles across his chest, over a ridge-packed stomach, and all the way down to … Holy crap, that’s big.

“You have no bloody clothes on!” ‘Cause they’re shredded, my mind hissed. Shaking my head, I forced my gaze north. “What the heck happened to you? Where the hell did you go?”

He pressed his finger back to his lips, still focusing somewhere out in the street.

“I can’t believe you stuck me in a tree …”

“Hush, will you?”

“… A tree! You bloody left me there. With those … those—”

His mouth smothered mine, and I gasped, hadn’t even seen it coming. His tongue darted out; my low moan escaped. “Jesus, you taste good,” he murmured. “But we need to get you out of here. Where’s your mobile?”

“My …” As he stepped away, I peered down at my hands as though confused over their emptiness. “I lost my bag.”

We both turned toward the park.

“Tell me you didn’t lose it in there.”

“I lost it in there.”

He cursed, turned back to me. “Listen to me. You’re going to take off your shoes—”

“What? It’s sno—”

His palm cut me off. “You’ve already proved they slow you down. And I need you to run as fast as you can to the river car park. Drake will be there. Get in the car with him. Tell him where I am.”

I nudged his hand down. “And you?”

He dropped to his knees, his fingers unleashing my shoes like he’d had a lot of practice. Once he’d slipped them off, he straightened and handed them to me. “I’m going for your purse.”

“But—”

“Run.”

“But—”

He darted back out into the street, his totally hot arse bouncing around beneath the lamplight, and left me standing in a dark alley in Horton with my feet fast going numb.

My body turned to go the way he’d ordered, but my head tried to send me back the other way. Car. Ben. Car. Ben.

A snarl ripped through the air.

I squeaked and bolted.

The end of the alley couldn’t come fast enough. My stocking-clad feet trampled over stones and rubbish and who knew what else, each little stab accompanied by my string of inventive ‘Ouch’s. Breaths panted from me by the time I burst from the shadows onto the soggy mush of the street and angled left. Dashing along, I hoped nobody noticed the crazy, hyperventilating, vagrant-looking woman racing along as though pursued by the hounds of hell.

Thirty metres ahead, the orange glow of the car park lights lent a blush to the sparkling ground, where they peeked through the trees that separated the road from the river.

A minute later, I spotted the Mercedes.

Oh, thank God!

On feet frozen beyond feeling, I raced through the entrance. Straight to the car. Banged on the window.

Nothing.

I ducked forward, peering through the windscreen.

Empty.

I gave a small whimper.

A moment later, frustration fuelled temper, and I kicked the door, slapping the window. “Where the bloody he—”

Hands grabbed my waist.

I swung around. Raised my heels. Swung them down on my attacker.

“Bollocks!”

I flipped my arm up again and drove it back down.

A hand snaked round my wrist. “Quit! I’m not gonna hurt you.”

My breath wheezed out, and I blinked the terror from my vision.

“Where’s Ben?” Drake’s gaze scanned me. His nostrils flared. “Oh, shit!” His hand released me. In the next second, the alarm bleeped, the lights flashing through the shadows. “Get in the passenger seat.”

I didn’t need telling twice. My bum met with leather as the engine sprang to life, and I snapped my seatbelt on.

“Where?”

“Mersion Park.” I still panted a little. “This side. Benjamin was taking me for a cruller.”

The car screeched through the gates. “Flunkies?” Despite his tense arms flipping the wheel to the right, Drake made the question sound like casual chat.

“Yes.”

“Best doughnuts around. Idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you.” He twisted the wheel left, squeezing us between double parked cars with barely an inch to spare. “Benjamin. Risking it for bloody crullers.”

“Risking what exactly?” I asked, gripping the door as the car swerved around a left corner and the park railings came into view.

“What?” He glanced my way, back to the road. “Oh, er … bumping into Ivan.”

I frowned. “How do you kno—”

The car skidded over the sludge-covered road, grinding to a halt outside the gate Benjamin had charged us through.

Drake twisted to me. “Stay in the car.”

Before I could respond, he exited the Mercedes and vanished into the park before his door had even slammed shut. I unclipped my belt and dived across to peer through the driver’s window, eyes squinted like that would help me see beyond the hedge.

One minute passed. I massaged my toes in an attempt to circulate the blood.

Two minutes passed.

Three.

Jesus, where are they?

I flopped back into my seat and flipped the door catch. Chill air rushed through the gap as I swung the door open. Wetness sifted through what was left of my stockings as I stepped into the road.

“What part of stay in the car didn’t you understand?”

My head snapped up to see Drake rounding the gate. I held my breath, releasing it slowly when Benjamin marched out behind him and straight to me.

His arms scooped beneath my legs and around my shoulders, and he deposited me back in the passenger seat. “Do you ever do as you’re told?”

“Yes, often.” As I met his gaze, his eyes turned a warm shade of honey and seemed to glow in the dimness. I swallowed. “Did you find my purse?”

He withdrew from the car without answering and shut me in. The rear and driver’s doors opened, and the both of them joined me. Without a word from either of them, the engine turned over, first gear was engaged, and Drake slid the car away from the kerbside.

I straightened in my seat after Drake had taken two left turns, heading us back toward river car park and away from my house. “You took a wrong turn.”

He didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel.

I pointed behind us. “My house is that way.” My panic might not have hit me full mode, but my voice still wavered and arrived a little shrill. “Where are we going? Surely, we’re still not going to bloody Flunkies after this?”

“We’re going somewhere safe,” Benjamin said behind me.

I twisted to bring him into view. “My house is safe.”

“Not any more it isn’t.”

“Wh …” I frowned, forced down a gulp. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t find your purse, Cole. It wasn’t there. If it was, I’d have sme—” He averted his gaze, drawing in a deep sigh. “I’d have found it.”

“So … I’ll change my locks.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The fact it was missing means that they most likely have it. Which means they may now have your address. As well as your keys. So—”

“Oh, my God! Kellie!”

“Who’s Kellie?” Drake said, just as Benjamin’s uttered, “Shit!” burst out.

“You have to take me back.” I grabbed Drake’s arm, my gaze on Benjamin. “We have to go back there.”

“Cole, calm down.” Benjamin reached over and pried my fingers from jerking Drake side-to-side. “Drake, where’s your phone?”

With a bit of hip thrusting and prying, he retrieved it from his pocket, and Benjamin took it and passed it to me. “Call home.”

Though my hands shook a little, I managed to enter the house number before pressing dial and sticking the phone to my ear.

Silence preceded static and the chirp of the ringtone.

I held my breath, mentally counting through the bleeps like a chant: un-uhn, un-uhn, un-uhn … After the eighth round, the click of the answer phone sounded.

I hung up, dialled again, ignoring the weight of Benjamin’s attention and distracted from the fact Drake still drove the wrong way at death-miles-per-hour.

Same amount of bleeps, same click, followed by, ‘Hey, this is Cole and Kellie—’

I hung up. “No answer.”

“She have a mobile?” Drake asked.

“Yes, but …” I stared down at the phone, jaw tight. “I’ve never had to dial it. It’s been stored in my mobile so long, I’m not even sure of the number. I mean, is it oh-seven-nine-eight, or oh-seven-eight-nine, or—dammit, I don’t know.”

“Try them both,” Benjamin said. “We’ll reach my place in a minute, anyway, and then I’ll go check on her.” His hand slipped through the seats, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “It’ll be okay, Cole. I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Oh-seven … oh-seven …” I mumbled the combination of numbers beneath my breath, closing my eyes in concentration as I worked through the sequence like a long-forgotten song. Just try the damn number, I yelled at myself and began pressing buttons.

As the ring tone buzzed at my ear, the car made a sharp veer onto a road that put its suspension to the test. I sat up straighter, hand braced against the window as I peered into total blackness.

My pulse notched up a gear. “Where on earth are you tak—?”

I jolted at the connecting click through the phone line.

Static silence.

I looked across at Drake, his glinting eyes telling me he stared my way through the dark interior. “Hello?”

“Who’s this?” Gruff didn’t quite cover the answering tone.

“Oh, um … I … was after my friend. I think I may have the wrong number. So sorry to bother you.”

“Whatever.” Click.

“Charming,” I muttered as the car quit its bouncing act and rolled over a new surface that didn’t threaten to wreck my teeth. A check through the windscreen showed glowing squares more commonly known as illuminated windows and a couple of parked vehicles. “Where—”

“My house.” Benjamin climbed from the car, and a few seconds later, he opened my door. Before I could even swing a leg out, he reached in and hugged me against his chest.

Though my mind rebelled at the dominant gesture, I kept mute, instead calling home again. While Benjamin marched us across a rough lain drive, I checked out my surroundings.

What I’d have described as a wooden shack, had it not been two storeys high with a double frontage and a canopied deck that seemed to circle the building, loomed over us. The light I’d seen spilled from downstairs windows, while the upstairs ones stared back like a couple of unseeing eyes.

My gaze darted side-to-side, searching for neighbours.

Like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, only deserted, snow-blanketed land spanned left and right, barely a tree or bush rising out of the darkness. The chirping tone at my ear at least lent an illusionary connection to normalcy.

Click. ‘Hey, this is Cole and Kellie. Sorry we’re not able to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a name and number, we’ll do our best to get back to you,’ we both sang, before Kellie’s tag of, ‘Or not!’ ended the message. Beep.

“Kellie, if you’re there, for goodness sake call me … on … how the heck’s she going to call me?” When I glanced up at Benjamin, he rattled off a landline number, which I recited into the phone. “If you’re asleep and ignoring the bloody phone, I swear to God, Kellie, I’ll make you cook every night this week. Are you even listening to me?”

As I hung up on a sigh, Drake opened a door to the rear of the property, and we entered to a lit kitchen decked out with the same distressed appearance as the outside.

A chair scraped back from a generous table set to one side. The giant that evacuated it stared our way from beneath hair as ginger as a brandy snap, his wide eyes flitting left, right, left, right. He finally settled on a spot just above my shoulder. “Ben …” He said the word slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Complications to the evening.” Benjamin carried me straight to one of the counters and set me down with legs dangling.

“Understatement,” Drake said. “Ivan Koposky is what really happened.”

“Shit!” The redhead raked his fingers through his hair. “You think they were gunning for you?”

“No, just coincidence and …” Benjamin’s gaze settled on me before fluttering away. “… distractions.”

“You still owe him a shedload of dough from your last trespass, Ben. I thought tonight was supposed to be a straight in and out and no loiter? What the hell were you thinking?”

Beneath my frown, my attention flitted from male to male.

“Trying to Flunky-impress the female,” Drake muttered.

Benjamin sent them a glare and turned back to me. As he caught one of my feet up, he frowned before his fingers pressed my cheek near the scratch I’d forgotten about. “You’re hurt.”

“And you’re still naked. Do you often run around Horton with no clothes on, Benjamin?”

“No.”

“Why were you …” A gulp started to wedge in my throat again as alternating flashes whipped through my mind: scrapped clothes-lion-scrapped clothes-lion-scrapped—I blinked. “Why were your clothes torn to shreds?” My gaze skimmed over him—fast, so I didn’t have time to linger on any one solid, muscular spot. “And there’re no marks on you—how is that possible?”

His golden eyes gazed into me, ensuring my throat obstruction expanded by at least fifty percent. After a few seconds, he pushed away and stalked from the room.

I stared after him before turning to the gingernut, who studied me like an alien had come for afternoon tea, and to Drake, who gave a small headshake, one corner of his mouth curved up in the barest of smiles.

Benjamin reappeared in the kitchen doorway, a pair of boxers in his hand. “How about if I just leave you to come to terms with what I suspect you’ve already figured out?”

Um … huh? My mouth opened.

“In the meantime …” He pointed at my hand and Drake’s mobile I still hogged. “Keep trying your friend’s phone.”

The following minutes seemed to pass in a manic blur. While I tried differing combinations of the digits stuck in my head, Benjamin dressed and tossed orders at Drake and the redhead.

Mid-dial, for the seventh time, a fourth guy entered the fray, his attention falling on me like a hydraulic hammer. “Has anyone else noticed there’s a cute feme sitting on the kitchen counter?” The Attila-the-Hun lookalike stoppered my throat for a moment as the darkest eyes I’d ever seen seemed to appraise me from head to toe. All while the loomer wore a leer on his chops. “So, who brought the entertainment, then?” he asked, when Benjamin shoved past him from the hallway.

“She’s off limits. Cole meet Corey. Don’t worry,” he said, like he’d caught my momentary panic, “he’s not as thuggish as he looks.”

I went back to my task of trying new sets of digits, half listening to Benjamin re-cover the issue and his big plan for them to head off to Ivan’s boss’s condo and snatch back Kellie with whatever force they deemed necessary. All while I sat alone, in a strange house, in the middle of nowhere, worrying myself sick.

The dial tone at my ear stalled; the quiet connective click sounded.

“Hello,” purred a smooth, deep voice.

My sigh arrived heavy. “Sorry, I think I must have the wrong number.” Again.

“Tell me who you’re looking for, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

For some reason, the hairs prickled along my nape. “My friend, Kellie.”

“Cole, I presume? Why don’t you put one of the Toms I can hear in the background on the line?”

Toms?

My heart stuttered as I glanced toward where the four men mumbled about infiltration and backup. No mention of heading to my house to check on Kellie. Did they already know she wouldn’t be there? What hadn’t Benjamin told me, exactly?

As though he’d sensed my scrutiny, his honeyed gaze spun to me. “Cole?”

The three other men quit talking and turned toward me, too, and my hand holding the phone reached out like it belonged to someone else.

Benjamin stepped forward. “Yes?”

I knew when the guy on the line began speaking because Benjamin’s jaw set rigid, the muscles clenched in his cheeks, and a deep V cut a groove between his eyebrows.

“Twenty-five?” Anger laced the words as his hand fisted around the mobile. More quiet minutes passed, a flat expressionless glaze entering Benjamin’s eyes, making him appear more terrifying than if he’d bared his teeth and screamed out the frustration pumping from him like a pulsed energy. Finally, he said, “Unharmed, or no deal.”

He hit the disconnect button and faced the ceiling, his chest rising and falling like he struggled to contain himself.

“Twenty-five?” Corey asked.

Eyes still aimed heavenward, Benjamin nodded.

“But you only owe him two from the last time.”

“Yep,” Benjamin muttered.

“How’s he justify—”

“Interest.”

“But … we don’t have twenty-five,” Drake said. “We don’t even have the two … do we?”

“Nope.” On an extra deep inhale and exhale, Benjamin lowered his face and stepped back to me. “Keep this.” He handed me the phone, his other hand brushing across my cheek. “I’ll call you as soon as we have your friend.” He gazed into me for seconds, seemed to want to say more, but turned away and nodded to the others. “Let’s go get her.”

From my perch on the worktop, I watched as the four of them trailed from the room like they were heading for nothing more pressing than a grocery-shopping trip.

Like they tackled potential kidnaps every day.

Because I was certain that was what had happened to Kellie. Because of me. The realisation turned my blood cold.

The second the front door closed on the departing men, leaving me surrounded by a strange house, totally unknowing of my location and one-hundred percent alone, my body began to tremble. I couldn’t seem to stop it—just as I couldn’t seem to halt thoughts of the evening rampaging through my mind. From the moment it truly sank in that I’d rather book an escort than tell my father where to stick his blasted orders, right up until the phone call that confirmed the only person in the world I considered a true friend had been dragged into danger.

And I’m just sitting here, I thought as I blotted away a rogue tear with my sleeve.

What else could I do? It wasn’t like I could join Benjamin in whatever method he intended applying to get Kellie back—because the glint in his eye told me it didn’t involve negotiations.

I didn’t even know where they’d headed, anyway. Maybe I should have gotten at least that much info from the man before I’d handed the phone over to Benjamin.

Stilling, I stared down at the mobile in my hand. Get it now, Cole.

Dare I, though? Benjamin evidently wanted me out of the way while the men dealt with the situation.

All while Kellie was being held by … what?

My mind whirled again, whizzing back to what I’d seen in the park. Back to that lion with eyes like … like … Say it, Cole.

“Eyes like Benjamin’s,” I whispered.

What did that say about the panthers?

“The panthers have Kellie.”

Hand trembling, I hit redial as though on autopilot.

Only one ring buzzed through before the connection clicked.

“Yes?” The same smooth voice as before.

I placed the phone to my ear. “It … it’s Cole.”

No response.

Tamping down my nerves and drawing on my heritage I tried so hard to ignore, I pushed forth. “I need to confirm the amount payable and the place of exchange for my friend.”

A chuckle, then, “Does Benjamin know of this call?”

“That’s irrelevant.” I allowed a hint of the steel learned from my father into my tone. “Would you like your payment, or not?”

Another chuckle travelled the line. “Twenty-five. Beech Farm, on the main A-road out of Horton toward Leominster.”

“Twenty-five pounds?”

“No.”

“Twenty-five hundred?”

He sighed. “No, Ms Harrington. Twenty-five K. I’ll be seeing you shortly.”

The line went dead.

Jesus Christ. Who were these people that they thought they could charge such ridiculous amounts just for a stroll in the bloody park? Some kind of crime organisation?

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Benjamin had been gone only ten minutes. The A-road the man spoke of stretched from the far side of town, meaning Benjamin had to bypass my house to get there. Could I make it before him? Even with a detour to grab the funds?

Who the hell was I trying to kid? I hadn’t even any wheels.

My mind flashed to the outside driveway and the vehicles I’d seen there. Where there’re vehicles, there are … “Keys. Find the keys.”

I hopped from the worktop, the tile floor cold against my soles. After scanning the visible surfaces and checking drawers, I headed for a dresser on the far side of the table and struck gold when I pulled open a glass-fronted door. Two key-fobs sat in a ceramic bowl, one for a Ford, the other for a Toyota. Something made me opt for the latter, and before I could change my mind, I shot from the house.

Chapter 4

Thankfully, the keys worked in a RAV4, it had fuel in its tank, and did a decent job tackling the snow still littering the streets.

At the kerbside outside my house, I yanked on the handbrake and jumped from the vehicle, hopping to the porch like I travelled over hot coals rather than an ice-carpet. My front door had been left ajar—no doubt as a message—and I pushed through without pausing, tossing my useless shoes into the hall corner on my way to the lounge.

The red light of the answer-machine blinked like crazy. I hit the play button, slipping out of my coat as the messages ran through.

‘Cole, where did you go, baby?’ Tony. The evening’s interaction with him seemed a lifetime away.

I slammed a hand down on delete, moving back into the hallway to mount the stairs.

‘Nicole, what the bloody hell are you playing at?’

I sighed, before blanking out my father’s voice and slipping into the spare bedroom that held my wardrobe of clothes.

Mud decorated the hem of the black dress I wore. My stockings looked like a Rocky Horror Picture Show aftermath. Off they came, tossed into the corner, to be exchanged for my black Versace jeans and black Pierre Cardin V-neck sweater. Onto my feet, I tugged Tigger socks I’d stolen from Kellie for their softness, and a pair of designer biker boots my father hated me wearing.

After re-securing my hair in a ponytail, I jogged back down the stairs to the living room, where my father’s tirade still rolled through speakers like something robotic.

‘… mother is very upset …”

Probably from listening to you rant on half the night.

A small door, halfway along the first wall, led to the cupboard under the stairs. Inside was where I stored my personal safe, with a combination I changed on a weekly basis. My eyes scanned the piles of notes within—ones I’d worked hard to save, because Father had insisted I prove my responsibility every week for him to keep me in his will.

Without hesitation, I pulled out a sack, shook it open, and began the transfer of cash until only five bundles remained.

‘… I expect better of you, Nicole …’ my father’s voice continued, as I ducked from the cupboard. ‘You’re a Harring—’

With my coat snatched up on route, I slammed the hall door shut on his voice and raced out of the house.

Fresh snowflakes splattered against the windscreen, marring my ability to see, even with the wipers on full whack. I drove along the A-road toward Leominster, and with seven miles clocked, no sign of any farm convinced me I’d missed the place, until I spotted two brick pillars at a harsh bend ahead of me. I squinted through the raining white at the seven-foot-high structures that supported gates left wide open and acted as pedestals for a couple of gigantic stone cats.

Cats—typical. “Got to be it,” I murmured, slowing the car to a halt alongside them to read the brass plaques: Beech Farm.

For some reason, reaching there didn’t exactly quell the nerves shivering through my body. Reminding myself of my quest—Kellie—I stuck the gearstick into reverse, backed up enough to make the turn, and weaved the Toyota between the gateposts.

The driveway, clear of snow, looked like a river of grey for the Toyota’s headlights to follow. Twin mounds of bordering white disappeared into dense clusters of trees on either side, while around fifty metres ahead stood the biggest farmhouse I’d ever laid eyes on. Seven illuminated windows and a broad door graced the front, overlooking a circular fountain where the driveway came to an end.

At blurred movement bundling into the car’s path, I pounded my foot on the brake, gripping the wheel as the tyres made a slight skid to the left, and stared at a rolling duo of huge cats scrabbling at each other.

More cats.

With my heart boom-a-boom-booming, I blinked.

Only the flick of a tail remained in the glow of my headlights, before even that vanished into the trees on the right.

Releasing a sharp blast of pent-up breath, I loosened my fists and navigated the vehicle once more in the direction of the house. Toward, I suspected, the guy from the phone.

No other cars dotted the fountain-adorned roundabout when I parked. For a few moments, I sat studying my quiet surroundings. Despite the gentle efforts of the trees to shake the snow from their branches, everything seemed still. Too still.

Creepy.

Shaking off my musings, I grabbed up the sack of cash from where I’d set it in the passenger foot-well and climbed out of the vehicle to the kind of misleading insulation only snow brings. Other than the muted crunch of my boots against the powder, little sound reached my ears—not even the expected rustles of nocturne life.

Which only seemed to make the grounds all the more creepy.

At a sudden screech off to the far right, my entire body jerked as an involuntary gasp burst from me, and I spun toward the sound. Nothing stood there as the source, no animals or beasties prowled from the between the timber, and it took a few seconds of me scouring to realise I stood gawping with a hand pressed to my chest.

“Get a grip,” I whispered, rolling my shoulders as I tightened my hand around the sack of cash.

Slamming the car door and staring up at the house, I couldn’t help but notice the way it seemed to have been downplayed from the mansion it truly was. With the quality of the carpentry cladding its façade, it made me wonder the why behind it—did the owner just not like blatant opulence? Or maybe they just didn’t want others to be too aware of the depth of their wealth.

Whatever their reasons, their efforts seemed inadequate when paired with the house’s size. Although, considering the social circles I’d been brought up in, the luxury properties I’d been prettied up to visit, the building shouldn’t have seemed that big, at all. Heck, my parents’ house—my family home—covered more square footage.

Yet, the building still gave me pause, before I gave a mental shake and ordered myself forth.

Four stone steps led up to the front door, on which a brass knocker hung from a lion’s head mount. I lifted the ring, dropping it against the wood, and the clash echoed through the night like a chime of doom as the tremble of my knees betrayed my anxiety.

At a gentle vibration through my hip, I glanced down and, catching a glow through the dark denim, worked out Drake’s mobile. ‘Corey’ flashed across the screen.

I twisted and peered behind, wondering if they’d already arrived, if they already hid somewhere—if it had been one of them I’d seen tumbling into the trees—but the twist of a catch drew my attention back to the door. I shoved the phone into my pocket just as it swung inward and light spilled over me.

Ivan from the park stood in the opening, that same smugness on his face. “You surprise me. I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, praying for my tone not to wobble and give away just how scared I really was. “A deal was struck, after all. The Harrington’s aren’t known for backing out.” Father would have probably been proud at last—unless, of course, he learned of the circumstances leading to the deal, and the fact I’d taken my savings to bail out my best friend … who only needs bailing out at all because of me.

Ivan stepped back and inclined his chin. “You’d better come in, then.”

Just like the exterior, white dominated the hall, on the walls, ceiling, even the furniture that Ivan guided us past across a parquet floor. With barely a falter in his flow, he gestured me to follow and disappeared around a high archway.

The corner I rounded took me into a library impressively crowded on all sides by floor-to-ceiling shelves that had been packed tight with books. In a wing chair in the centre sat Kellie, still donned in her fleecy shorts and tatty T and socks.

Her head whipped up as soon as I stepped into the room. A hoard of emotion spilled from her wide eyes, mingling with unspoken fear, determination, and pleading—definitely pleading.

After checking her over, surprised, yet relieved, to find no bindings on her, nor any marks, I sent her a small nod and gave my attention to the man at her side.

Not as tall as Ivan, but somehow more imposing, he stared back through eyes the colour of burnt Satsuma, from beneath a chestnut, out-of-control mane of hair. Questions and curiosity, as well as an underlying humour poured from his expression, and twisted the line of his lips.

A plum-sized blockage caught in my throat, one it took three attempts to swallow down, leaving my mouth as arid as kilned sand.

“How lovely to meet a local businesswoman,” the man said, and I recognised the smooth tone instantly. “Especially one of the Harrington line.”

“You took my calls.” An obvious statement. “Which means you know of the arrangement, so there’s no reason to stall with formalities.”

His lips twisted further. On anyone else, they’d have looked like a grimace. On him, they seemed to hold an offering of delights. He nodded toward the sack I held. “You have the agreed amount?”

Agreed? He’d made the demand. I’d had no choice but to comply. “Twenty-five,” I confirmed.

At a quiet command from the odd man, Ivan stepped forward and reached for the sack.

I tugged it back a little. “My friend first, if you’d be so kind.”

The man’s chuckle sounded like a bubbling geyser. “That’s not quite how these transactions work.”

“Maybe not in your head, but this is how they work when dealing with me. If you take your prize first and then renege in the exchange, I’m screwed. At least you have every hope of ensuring my end of the bargain is fulfilled with the backup you have here.” I nodded toward his freaky aide, but as Goldie fast-sobered, I wondered what the hell I’d said wrong.

“You know what I am?” he asked, his tone as serious as death.

I’d no idea which of my words had given him that impression. Or maybe my face had done all the talking he’d obviously heard. Trying to school my features, I answered, Honestly … “No …” … not for certain, anyway.

“But you suspect.”

Unable to come up with a truth and distraction fast enough to fool them, I refrained from answering that question.

“Mr Gold must think very highly of you to allow you so close.”

I could have told him Mr Gold hadn’t exactly had a whole lot of choice in the matter, but instead, I kept my mouth shut again—mostly because Ivan and his sucky interjection on what should have been a normal, pleasant evening was the only reason I’d ended up involved at all.

He patted Kellie’s shoulder and waved her forward. “Okay, you may cross to your friend.”

I could tell by her twitchy eyes and head, she didn’t like showing the guy her back as she padded over the floor. She practically snatched at my arm the second she was close enough, her fingers digging into my flesh, even through my sweater and coat.

“Can we go now?” she squeaked through clenched teeth.

I nodded and held out the bag toward Ivan, though my gaze remained on the one who’d never even given his name. “I trust this is Benjamin’s debt paid in full now?”

“It is.” He smiled, once more adding intrigue to an already compelling face. “Though, you might want to call him off now …” So, he knew of Benjamin’s presence. “… before he finds himself in a new batch of trouble.”

“No worries,” I muttered, backing Kellie and myself out of the room. Only at the archway did I turn us away.

“Ms Harrington?”

I glanced back to find those unusual eyes full of anticipation and a little closer, though I hadn’t heard him move.

“I very much look forward to doing business with you in the future.”

What the hell does that mean? screamed through my head as my pulse did a little stuttering act, but I ordered myself not to respond, not to allow him to see he’d unnerved me, and merely nudged Kellie in the direction of the front door.

We burst from the house and into the cold without interruption, and as soon as we had, I slammed the barrier in place, taking a moment on the top step to catch the breath I’d been holding. Fingers trembling, from way more than the temperatures, I wiggled Drake’s mobile from my pocket and hit dial on the last received call.

After one ring, Drake’s voice said, “Tell me that wasn’t you I saw going into Rufus’s house, Cole.”

Rufus? I didn’t quite contain my snort.

“Cole?”

“Yes, it was me. I have Kellie. You can call Benjamin off and tell him his dues are paid.”

Silence met me. The stunned kind, I guessed.

I scoured the darkness, peering through the trees like I’d spot Drake peeking around one.

“I’ll tell him,” he said.

“Thanks.” I started down the steps, Kellie’s hold on my arm bringing her down with me. “You can also tell whoever owns the RAV4, thanks for the loan, but they’ll have to wait on its return, because right now …” I sighed. “I’m going home.”

Kellie shivered against me, as I hung up and pulled open the passenger door of the car. “What the hell happened tonight?” she asked.

I wondered how long it would take her. “It’s a long story.” I shrugged out of my coat and draped it around her shoulders. “One I’m not even sure I know.”

“You are so sharing. And my being dragged off the sofa and hauled away by a couple of hulks had better have a decent explanation behind it.”

Everything within me wanted to ask what had happened, how bad the evening had been for her, but something within the continued shivers of her body told me that moment wasn’t the right time for the inquisition. “Tomorrow,” I said, tucking into her seat. “I promise.”

With a last glance toward the ‘farmhouse’, I rounded the car and settled behind the wheel. Air blew from the vents the instant I turned the key, and I aimed them all Kellie’s way, before directing the car around the roundabout and onto the driveway.

“So … how was your date?” she asked.

I twisted toward her, caught the curve of her lips in the dark. “My date? It was … different.”

I turned back in time to spot a golden bundle whizzing past the headlights.

My foot smashed down.

The tyres shifted to the left.

The car ground to a stop.

“What was that?” Kellie said.

Heart thudding loud enough to drown out all other sound, I stared at the empty spot, where I’d have sworn on my life I’d just seen something, too.

“It looked lik—”

A bang hit my window.

Kellie screamed, as I jumped a foot off my seat.

Benjamin’s face peeked through the glass when I dared look that way. My door shot open. Hands gripped my shoulders. In the next second, I stood wedged against the vehicle with Benjamin’s hands on each of my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He scanned over my features. “Tell me he didn’t hurt you. What the hell were you thinking, Cole?”

“I was thinking of getting my friend back and saving your hide.”

“What did Rufus do to you?”

“Nothing. I paid him. He handed Kellie over. We left.”

“That’s it?” Disbelief tinged his tone.

I nodded.

He blew out a breath, seemed to relax a little. “I’m going to drive you home. I can do that much, at least.” He stepped away—revealing himself in all his naked glory.

Again.

I gaped at him. “What happened to your clothes this time?”

He leaned in and popped the lever to the back hatch like I hadn’t even asked.

I followed him when he headed for the rear of the car, trying hard not to get distracted by the sweet, sweet curve of his bum as it tick-tocked with each step. “I swear I’ve seen you without clothes more than with.”

“And she says that like it’s a bad thing,” Kellie piped up from her seat.

I ignored her, dragging my gaze to Benjamin’s eyes as he turned. “Are you going to tell me what’s really been going on tonight?”

He opened the hatch, and pulled out a sweater, tugging it over his head.

“Maybe you’d like to start with what really happened in the park?”

He slid Jersey shorts over his hips.

I peeked inside the boot space, to find an entire holdall rammed with clothes. “How much does this kind of thing happen, exactly, Benjamin? I mean, you have a boot full of clothes. You run around with nothing on … and it’s fricking winter, for God’s sake. You all vanished without a trace earlier, only to have—”

Fingers clasped the back of my neck as lips smothered mine. I blinked, bringing his seriously close face into focus. For a moment, I lowered my lids and allowed the moment of what very much resembled calm to wash through me, only just succeeding in squashing the groan brewing in my chest.

When I opened my eyes, his seemed to glow in the darkness.

“You’ve already figured out the truth, and you refuse to believe yourself,” he said quietly. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

For a moment, I just stood there, trying to decipher his words, as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Or trying to accept them.

Getting nowhere fast, I yanked open the back door and lowered myself inside to Kellie’s burning curiosity.

Her eyebrow arched up. “Different, huh?”

Grabbing my seatbelt, I gave a half-shake of my head. “Kellie, you have no idea.”

Chapter 5

Tucked beneath a duvet on the sofa, Kellie’s snores made her sound like a hibernating bear. An early bird by nature, she’d pretty much crashed and burned after she’d gotten what she could out of me and Benjamin, which turned out to be not very much at all.

Listening to the gruff background tune, I stood on the front deck beneath the porch overhang and watched the sway of Benjamin’s hips as he padded barefoot along my path. Despite my relief at the evening being over, I couldn’t help the twinge of sadness as I watched each step carry him farther away.

Despite the ease with which Kellie had gone under, he’d avoided my questioning stares, batted my demands for answer. The fact that every time he looked at me, my insides went gooey, was neither here, nor there. Or how much my mind would rather be basking in the imprinted image of Benjamin’s arse than dealing with the current situation.

Though, both of those just made his walking away a little harder to take, which probably made me the crazy person to ever walk the darned planet. Because I surely should’ve been rejoicing in it, thankful that the most eventful and frightening—and excitingly exhilarating—night of my life had come to an end and I could return to mundanity and obeying orders.

Reaching the end of the path, Benjamin halted, his hand on the gate. When he hadn’t moved seconds later, my heart did an idiotic little thrum.

For what, though? Did I think he’d turn back around? Did I even want that?

I’d be insane to.

Right?

He spun and re-trod the path back toward me. I followed his every sure-footed move, until his climb of the bottom step below me brought him almost to eye level.

“Do you believe everyone we meet in life, we do so for a reason, Cole?” he asked.

My gaze flitted away and back to him. “Do you?”

He nodded, dipping his hands deep into his pockets. “Some people come into your life as blessings. Others as lessons.”

My head tilted. “Which one are you to me, then?”

“Can’t I be both?” he asked.

“Why, Benjamin?” My lips twitched. “What do you think you can teach me?” Other than the world is a far freakier place than I ever imagined.

“That wearing heels will likely get you killed.”

“Moot lesson,” I said. “I pretty much figured that much out myself, when a crazy, naked man caught up with me.”

His chuckle arrived quiet as he climbed the second step. Closer, a little higher, his expression sobered as he faced me.

“And as for being a blessing? I’m …” My breath hitched a little. “… going to take a little more convincing on that.”

Hands still in his pockets, he ducked forward.

The closer he came, the more my eyes played irritating tricks on me, and that shock of honey blond of his seemed to suddenly surround more prominent cheekbones and a prouder forehead. His golden eyes, even half-obscured beneath lowered lashes, merged into those of the lion in the park.

I almost swallowed my tongue, but managed to untwist it just enough to blurt out, “Benjamin, are you a—”

He stilled. “What, Cole? What am I?”

“Are you a—I mean, did you …” My brows pulled tight as his words hissed through my mind: What am I, Cole? I took a deep breath. “Can you turn into a lion?” I swallowed the second I’d asked the question, half dreading what trouble it’d just landed me in.

“Do you believe I can?” was all he said in response.

“That’s a non-answer.”

“It’s an important question. Do you believe it?”

Nooooo, I wanted to screech. I mean, how bloody ridiculous would that be?

“Yes,” I whispered.

I waited for him to affirm. He merely smiled, his gaze never wavering as he leaned in across the remaining inches and met my lips with his own.

A moan bubbled in the back of my throat at the connection. With no imminent danger, no surrounding woods, and no frisky creatures rolling about, I allowed myself to taste him, my moan escaping when a subtle muskiness drifted from his pores. Heat from his hands landed on my hips, before sliding around to my back, and beneath his demand, my body arched into him as his tongue swept along mine with delicious finesse.

Drawing back, he seemed to study me, and I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes had darkened and resembled a couple of orange opals. I also couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered at my hips.

“Let me see you again, Cole.” His whisper was a hoarse invitation that skated over my spine, and I very much wanted to throw myself at him and shout yes!.

Instead, I raised an eyebrow and drew back a little farther. “Are you kidding me? You’re the most dangerous date I’ve ever had …”

“Probably the most exciting, too.”

I shook my head, breathing out a scoffed laugh. “Not to mention that, at twenty-five grand a shot, you’re the most expensive date I’ve ever had. Thirty, if you add in the agency fee.”

“All the more reason.” He shrugged, taking a step back as if it was required with ‘business’ on the table. “I could pay you back one evening at a time.”

He had offered to repay the evening’s added expenses during the ride home. Multiple times. And I’d declined equally as often, but something about his offer then held my knockback on pause.

My eyebrows winged up. “You realise that’ll take a seriously long time?”

He nodded, backing down the steps until his soles hit the path again, though he didn’t quite contain the smile I could see teasing at his lips. “It just means I’ll have to pick you up tomorrow at seven ...” Another backward step, the denim of his jeans hugging his movements. “And then I’ll need to pick you up the next day at seven ...” A dip of his chin and an upward glance of his golden eyes from beneath his eyelashes accompanied his next step. “Then at seven the day after that … and the day after that … and then …”

I let my gaze skim along his body, over his open shirt and tatty jeans, down to where his bare feet pressed into the snow, and all the way back up again to that handsome face and hair gone wild since the beginning of the evening. Somewhere between south and north, I felt myself melt as deeply as the snow beneath Benjamin’s feet.

“Okay,” I said, a smile creeping in. “You’re on. It’s a date.”

THE END

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About J.A. Belfield

Best known for her Holloway Pack Stories and The Therapist, J.A. Belfield lives in Solihull, England, with her husband, two children, a cat and two dogs. She writes paranormal romance, with a second love for urban fantasy.

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Read More by J.A. Belfield

Paranormal Romance

The Holloway Pack

BEGINNINGS

CALLED

LURED

CAGED

HEREDITARY

UNNATURAL

ENTICED

CORNERED

Erotic Romance

THE THERAPIST

Mistletoe And Demons

The Edge of Forever

D.C. Gambel

About Mistletoe and Demons

Christmas isn’t always merry and bright.

Gaby is a simple day-walking vampire who just wants a nice Christmas. After years of dealing with the hubbub of a Manhattan holiday, she decides a trip out of town is just what her preternatural family needs. But a friend from her past appears with some not so jolly news. Santa isn’t the only one coming to town. A demon has set his sights on stealing one of her unique children.

Will Gaby save her children, or lose them forever to the clutches of the Christmas demon?

Chapter 1

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock.

Christmas music hummed around me, mingling with the sounds of forced merriment from Grayson’s employees as I stood alone at the Alexander Holdings Incorporated annual holiday party. My husband, host of this little shindig, had vanished half an hour ago, sneaking off to do some last-minute business.

I didn’t hold it against him. He was doing everything he could to clear his schedule for the next two weeks.

While spending the holidays in Manhattan featured on most bucket lists, for us, staying home was a nightmare. Tourists bombarded this city leading up to New Year’s Eve when you can’t even make a phone call due to over activity.

This year would be different. Grayson and I were taking our four children and heading to snowy Colorado. A few years back, Grayson had purchased a cabin out there. We’d visited a handful of times over the years, but this would be our first Christmas in the winter wonderland.

The kids were excited, my parents even more so. Their official reason for joining us was to help with the kids, and to be honest, Grayson and I needed assistance with our four supernatural children. However, I suspected my parents were scheming, but to what end, I was unsure.

Warm fingers traced down my spine, sending tingles I felt even through the fabric of my dress, as they slid across my hip. I smiled, knowing it was my husband without even turning. Thanks to our mating bond, I was connected to him in a metaphysical way. I didn’t always know exactly where he was or what he was feeling, especially at a distance, but in a building full of people I could find Grayson blindfolded. It was like playing Marco Polo, but the other person responded nonverbally. While the connection didn’t work as well as the blood tie I held with Sebastian, the children’s guardian angel, Grayson and I chose to be tied. My bond with Sebastian was entirely organic. We were both angelic and our blood called to the other, trying to lure us together.

I no longer resented that particular tie, even though it had caused so much turmoil in my relationship once upon a time. It had also saved my life and that of my eldest son, Ian.

“Come with me,” Grayson’s masculine voice vibrated through me causing a delicious quiver deep in my core. After almost a decade together, I still desired him.

He led me around the corner. The sound of the party filtered in even with distance, thanks to my vampiric hearing, but the moment Grayson pinned me to the wall with his strong otherworldly body, the only sound I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.

I caught a quick glance of him before his lips sealed against mine. It was a gentle kiss, but with the promise of more to come. Tonight, he was dressed a bit more casually in a burgundy button up and black slacks rather than his typical office attire of business suits. He’d styled his dark hair with a carefree tussled appearance. His gray eyes peered at me hungrily before he leaned in, kissing me again.

“Grayson,” I moaned against his lips, mirroring his desire. “The party?”

“Fuck the party,” he growled deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to dance against mine. Grayson’s hand slid up my dress skimming teasingly over the fabric of my panties. He groaned, finding me wet. My nipples instantly hardened, making me both regret and feel grateful I wasn’t wearing a bra, as I rubbed myself against his hard chest.

The sound of a nearby woman’s laughter broke through my haze. While I wasn’t opposed to sex in his workplace, I wanted more time than what we would be allowed.

“Maybe we should take this home?” I offered enticingly, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt discreetly putting some distance between us.

“Give me ten minutes to make my rounds. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

I nodded. One final kiss and we parted. Struggling to hide a smile, I headed to Grayson’s office, where I had deposited my bag when we arrived.

His secretary’s desk sat empty, which was an unusual sight for me. I was so used to seeing the elderly woman, Mrs. Giles, sitting there diligently, the unwavering sentry guarding my husband from those who would disturb his work tasks. As it was well past the end of the workday, I wasn’t surprised to see the woman had retired for the evening, although if she had been at her station, I wouldn’t have been shocked either. The work ethic of that woman was astounding. Grayson practically had to threaten to fire her to get her to leave some nights. He paid her well, but her dedication had nothing to do with money. Rather, it was due to the fact Grayson had rescued her son.

While Mrs. Giles never admitted she’d noticed odd changes in her boss after I entered his life and turned him into a daywalking vampire, when her son became addicted to vampires feeding on him, Mrs. Giles went to Grayson for help. The true nature of her son’s problems was never spoken, but Grayson had influenced the boy’s mind and saved him from certain death.

Grayson had tried to get the woman to retire two years ago, but she refused. “Until I’m unable to do this job in the capacity you’re accustomed to, I’m staying right here.”

The sounds of the party faded as I drew closer to Grayson's office. My heels were muffled against the carpet of the long hallway. I was almost to the door when I stumbled, catching myself before any real embarrassment could be had.

My hand moved instinctively to my heart, feeling it race. My breathing grew rapid. It took me a moment to realize what was causing these reactions. My blood hummed, signifying someone I was tied to was near. I glanced down the hall, but Grayson was out of sight. The pull was too strong for there to be much distance between me and whomever was causing this reaction. If it wasn’t my husband, it could only be one thing. An angel.

The office door loomed before me. Whomever was causing my blood to dance was on the other side. Worse still, they had to know I was lingering, intentionally keeping the false safety of the door between us.

I am no coward, I reminded myself. The daughter of the first vampire, a queen in my own right, and I would not tremble in fear from some unknown angel. My children were safely with their grandparents so if he was here for them, he’d be disappointed.

Setting my shoulders back, I shoved the door open. The angel was facing the window, admiring the city before him as I’d seen Grayson do so many times.

There was something familiar about the man in dark wash jeans and black leather jacket. My body hummed, begging me to cross the distance to him. The urge was stronger now with him was in sight. I’d only ever experienced the need as strongly with one person.

“Sebastian?”

He turned, as if just realizing I was there. However, like me, he was a supernatural being, which meant he possessed astounding senses. Even if he had control over the blood tie beckoning us together, and perhaps he did. I myself was out of practice. He would have heard even the quiet scuttle of a tiny mouse entering the room, much less a fearless daywalking vampire trampling in.

The lights from the Christmas tree the kids set up in Grayson’s office danced across his features, highlighting him in a variety of colors. It was him. His blond hair was longer on the top of his head, while he chose to keep it short everywhere else. His emerald eyes studied me, watching me intently.

Years had passed since I’d seen him in person. The last time was mere days after I gave birth to my youngest child, Lizzy. Sebastian, as their guardian angel, would come to me shortly before I gave birth to let me know he would be my child’s protector and again after the baby was a few days old to establish the bond. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until that moment.

Without thought, I rushed to him throwing my arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. Burying my nose into his leather jacket, I breathed him in. It wasn’t until his arms encircled my waist my blood calmed, and I was at peace. Without the blood tie ruling me, clarity returned.

I pulled back enough to see the flakes of gold in his green eyes and asked, “Why are you here?”

After earning his place back in Heaven, Sebastian wasn’t allowed to roam earth as he once had. If he was here, there had to be a reason and I was sure I wasn’t going to like it.

“Text your husband, Gaby. Tell him you’ll meet him at home. There's something you and I should discuss.”

Chapter 2

“Krampus?” I snorted unable to hide the mirth and hint of disbelief in my tone. I’d asked Sebastian twice already, but his answer had not changed. Part of me wondered if I was a bit disjointed after he’d dissipated us to the top of Angelo Tower, the building where my father housed his nest of vampires, and where my family and I currently resided. I’d texted Grayson before Sebastian took my hand and teleported us to the new location. Good thing I made the effort before the leap. It was a bit disorienting, after years of not traveling through the cosmic rift.

“I don’t know why you're getting hung up on the name.” He rubbed his forehead, clearly irritated with me, but I couldn’t help myself. He’d just told me a Christmas boogieman was after my kids, which plenty of people heard during this time of year, and yet, all knew it wasn't a real threat.

“Because you’re telling me the anti-Santa is after my kids. You might as well have said the Easter bunny.”

“You’re a daywalking vampire, talking to a former fallen angel, who died in your arms, only to come back to life with his former angelic grace, yet you draw the line at a demon who inspired pagan folklore? He’s a demon, Gaby, regardless of the name you recognize!”

I sighed, rubbing the skepticism from my face. “We’ve faced demons before.”

“Lilith spent a lot of time on earth.”

I cringed hearing her name. Lilith attempted to kill my oldest when I was pregnant with him. If it hadn’t been for Sebastian…

“Why does that matter? A demon is a demon. I fear her more than some Christmas anti-Claus.”

“She was weakened because of her presence here. Krampus spends the year in Hell. He comes topside for three weeks. Whether it’s by choice, or because of some curse placed upon him, we don’t know. But what we do know is he’s been here for two weeks already. Heaven has tracked him and he’s in the city, Gaby. The kids are getting older. They’ll be coming into their powers soon.”

I shook my head, tightening my grip on my jacket. “Ian’s barely six, Sebastian.”

“Listen, Gaby, most parents don’t even know their children have guardian angels. After Micheal’s attack, Heaven placed the children under my protection. You were made aware of this because if the prophecy was ever elucidated and Micheal decided your kids were evil, he’d eliminate them without Heaven’s consent. I alone cannot take him. He’s an archangel and I’m…not. I would need help. I’ve done my best over the years. I’ve monitored potential hazards and eradicated them, on both sides.”

Both sides? That meant even with Heaven placing Sebastian as the kids’ guardian, there were still those on his side who were convinced my children could grow up to be evil. The prophecy was unclear on their future. It simply stated they would change the world. No one knew if it meant for good or evil.

“I’m here because I believe they are in real peril. You know I wouldn’t show myself otherwise. At what age do you think the kids should be treated as potential threats? They are children, but they are feared for what they may become. You’re a good person, Gaby. I have no doubt you and Grayson will raise them to be a benefit to the side of good, but right now, we need to focus on keeping them out of Hell’s hands. If Krampus gets his claws on even one of the kids, he won’t kill them. He’ll take them back to Hell where they will be enthralled until they are a weapon for him to wield.”

Whether I believed the Christmas demon was a danger or not, Sebastian did, and I trusted him with my children’s safety.

I’d always known the day would come again when someone would make a play to either kidnap or eliminate them, but no matter when, I would never feel prepared. It didn’t matter. I’d be damned if I was going to let anyone touch a hair on my kids’ heads. I’d rip them apart with my bare hands before they even got close. If the demon thought coming after them as children would make them easier to get to, he’d made a major miscalculation.

Sebastian stepped forward. He’d been maintaining his distance for most of our interaction, but for a moment he appeared to forget himself. His hand reached out, hovering in the space between us. Something passed over his face and with a pinched brow, he let his hand fall back to his side.

There were reasons he kept himself hidden from me beyond the rules of being the children’s guardian. It was too hard. I cared for him, but he knew, when it came down to it, I’d always choose Grayson.

“Go speak to your husband. Let him know the danger. I’ll be close by in case you need…” He hesitated, searching for the right phrase, “in case something happens.”

I wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension which had suddenly appeared, but as I opened my mouth to speak, Sebastian vanished from my presence.

Staring out at the city around me, I admired the breathtaking view of the skyline from the roof top. With the lights glittering against darkened, snowy skies, it was difficult to believe anything menacing was coming. Yet, if Sebastian claimed Krampus was after the kids, then I believed him. Even if the notion seemed farfetched, he’d long ago earned my trust. Now I had to tell Grayson the anti-Claus was coming to town.

Chapter 3

I made my way downstairs to the floor that housed my family. I checked the door and found it unlocked. Grayson was home. As quietly as I could, I opened the door and stepped into our makeshift apartment. When we decided to move into the tower, my father, Damien, presented us with what could have been a full-size apartment with enough room for each child to have their own space. I had never mentioned that one of my worries about moving into the tower was having my kids separated from me. I’d seen other rooms in the tower, and none were like ours. They all had a luxury hotel feel. The doors from the hall would open into one large room where everything but the bathroom was housed. Our ‘room’ was a pleasant surprise and it made me wonder just how long my father had been planning to have my family stay in the tower.

Slipping off my heels at the door, I padded across the hardwood floor. Opening myself up to the mating bond I shared with Grayson, I felt his pull drawing me down the hall. Lizzy’s door was ajar. Unsure why, I made my way to the frame and peered inside, a wide smile on my face as I spied on the scene within.

Lizzy was cradled in Grayson’s arms, as he gently laid her in bed.

When we were out, Lizzy tended to crawl into our bed to sleep. My mother, who typically watched the children for us, thought nothing of it and would even tuck Lizzy in as if it was her space.

The moment Lizzy’s head touched the pillow, Grayson pressed his finger to his mouth hushing me. Perhaps he heard me approach, or like me he felt me through the bond. I struggled not to smirk as this powerful man tiptoed ridiculously out of our daughter’s room.

He returned my smile as he closed her door. Without a moment’s pause, his arms wrapped around me. Our mouths collided hungrily, seeking out the other. He kissed me with the intensity we had shared at his office Christmas party. It held the promise of more.

He led me backward to our room, allowing his hands to roam my body fueling my own lust. I knew I needed to tell him about Sebastian’s visit, but it was hard to think of anything else when his every touch sent tendrils of fire throughout me. We were a few feet from our door when he froze and then pulled back.

“Gaby? Why do you smell like Sebastian?”

Sebastian had always been a sore spot in our relationship. Grayson was aware of my feelings for the angel. He didn’t blame me for them. The situation surrounding their development had been entirely out of everyone’s control. Things were better since Sebastian regained his grace. Grayson came to terms with Sebastian’s visits surrounding our children’s births, but as I wasn’t pregnant nor had I recently given birth, Sebastian’s scent must have been a conundrum, to say the least.

“We should take this to the bedroom,” I suggested, which might have sounded seductive if he didn’t smell another man on me. Our room was soundproof, and I didn’t want our kids to hear what I was about to say.

“Then, we leave town like we planned,” Grayson offered. He’d taken the news better than I had, not getting hung up on the cheesy folklore surrounding the demon.

I shook my head. “If we changed locations, there would still be a trail leading him to us. Even if we drove and paid in cash, what if there’s some other way to track us? If he could find us, it’s better if it’s here at the nest where we have an army to protect the kids.”

“Gaby, the folklore has to stem from somewhere and what I remember about Krampus is he’s a stealthy SOB. He could be in the kids’ rooms before we even knew what was happening.”

As the words passed his lips, my eyes went wide, and I rushed out the door. Charlie’s room was the first door on my right. I threw it open silently, finding my second oldest sleeping peacefully in his bed. Next, I was at Lizzy’s room and found nothing out of place. When I turned to head into Matt’s Grayson grabbed my shoulders.

“They’re both fine,” he whispered placing a gentle kiss against my temple. “I checked and they’re asleep in their beds.”

Part of me wanted to see for myself, not because I didn’t trust Grayson, I just wanted to lay my eyes on the kids for reassurance. He smirked, as if sensing my internal struggle. Quieter and gentler than I had been with the first two kids’ doors, Grayson led me first to Matt’s and then Ian’s room. Both boys were sleeping peacefully, just as he said. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I rubbed at an ache which had blossomed in my chest. A moment later, I felt a familiar draw beckoning me toward the living room. My brow furrowed. Grayson was standing by my side, so the sensation was confusing.

“You know, your lack of faith is mildly insulting,” Sebastian’s voice trailed down the hall announcing his presence and explaining my need to rush into the living room.

Grayson and I headed down the hall, turning the corner to see our kids’ guardian angel. He sat on the couch with his arms laid across the back as though he owned it. “I told you I would be nearby. If he were here, I’d have known.”

“Sebastian,” Grayson reached out clasping hands with the angel. While I had seen Sebastian many times over the years, Grayson hadn’t seen the angel since he’d died. My husband had trusted me when I'd said I’d seen the former fallen angel, but it was nice to have confirmation I hadn’t, in fact, been hallucinating all these years.

“Grayson,” Sebastian returned the manly hello with a nod. The men had arrived at a sort of begrudging truce when I’d been kidnapped by Micheal. The abduction had pressured the two of them to join forces in order to rescue me. I didn’t think either man had ever truly hated the other, but rather had detested my feelings for their rival. It was nice to see the truce still held.

“Have you been eavesdropping?” I asked trying to add a hint of the motherly scolding I used on the boys.

“Even I can't hear through your soundproofing.” He grinned in a way that had me wondering if he was really telling the truth. I didn’t dwell on it. It would only drive me crazy if I thought Sebastian was spying on me when I couldn’t see him.

“What’s your plan?” Grayson demanded, going straight to the point. “Gaby says leaving isn't an option.”

Sebastian shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It's not a good idea to take the kids anywhere away from the tower. They need to stay here 24/7 until the threat passes.”

Grayson’s brow pinched and his mouth twitched. “You want to lock them down like they're prisoners?”

Sebastian ignored Grayson’s obvious displeasure. “It’s their home and it’s only for a week.”

“With Christmas coming up,” I added trying to defuse any possible tension. I was used to being a buffer between them and thanks to having three boys, my buffering skills had only improved. “The kids will be excited. I doubt they’ll even notice not leaving.”

“You’re okay with this?” Grayson asked. The look of utter betrayal on his face stung. I did my best not to glance at Sebastian. I wasn’t intentionally trying to side with him. In fact, we hadn’t actually discussed a plan of action for the kids. We coincidentally agreed.

A physical threat, I could handle. Point me in the direction, and let me attack. I’d been training for years to handle such a likelihood, but Krampus wouldn’t be attacking us head on. His plan was stealth. I didn’t know if the lore was true, but if his plan was to sneak into the Angelo Tower, home of the New York nest, to get to my kids? Well, he’d have to get past hundreds of vampires first. I liked the kids’ odds if they stayed put. If we left the tower, even to join in the Christmas festivities, the kids would become easier targets.

“It's not a bad plan, Grayson.”

“So, we just wait?”

I opened my mouth, but it was Sebastian who answered. “We just wait.”

Chapter 4

By December 23rd, chaos ensued. Not in the expected form of demonic attack, but rather, the children’s restlessness grew to an unbearable level.

Grayson sat across from me on the couch, struggling to hide the smug smile threatening to spread across his face. His objections to the plan made days ago had not been uttered since his initial complaint, but as the kids were now crawling the walls, I could see his struggle to contain the ‘I told you so,’ from spilling from his mouth.

“I know!” I spat.

His smirk cracked. “Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to. You're sitting there all smug like.”

“So, are you upset I was right or that I hadn’t stated it yet?”

“You're just relishing this.”

Grinning, Grayson slipped off the couch coming to sit beside me. He took my hands in his. “I relish nothing, my love, but as our children are about to destroy the tower, what do you suggest we do?”

Leaning in, I buried my face in his shoulder and groaned. “I don’t know.” I’d done everything in my power to keep the kids occupied for the past several days. While Grayson hadn’t agreed with the plan, he'd been right there beside me attempting to keep the boys entertained. Lizzy was easiest. She was content having her two grandmas to play with. We’d not seen Sebastian since he dropped the bomb on us, but I knew he was near. Every so often I’d feel the tug in my blood leading me to him, but it would quickly vanish.

“I want a hot chocolate from San Ambroeus!” Ian yelled.

“I want to see the Christmas tree!” hollered Charlie.

“Skate! Skate! Skate!” cried Mathew.

I burrowed into Grayson deeper, feeling utterly defeated. The kids knew our Christmas traditions. We normally went earlier in the month. This close to the big day, it was a mad house. I had meant to take them, but with our planned trip to Colorado, I thought we’d do our traditions there.

The door to our suite swung open. There was a brief moment of silence as the boys stared at my father, who held Lizzy on his back, before the screaming began once more.

“Grandpa!” The boys yelled in unison before launching themselves at my father. I was grateful for his supernatural reflexes, otherwise having three boys plummet toward someone might cause them to lose their balance and drop my two-year-old, but my father stood firm.

Damien didn’t look like a typical grandfather. He didn’t even look old enough to be a father actually. His raven hair was slightly shaggy, barely touching his ears. His white button-down shirt did nothing to help his pale complexion, but it was much better than the darker colors he typically preferred. He appeared completely out of place with four children clinging to him. He would fit in better standing on a stage with a rock band, surrounded by adoring fans cheering his name.

“What is all this yelling?” His sapphire eyes narrowed at me. The unspoken question behind it was simple. What was I doing to upset his grandchildren?

For the longest time, I always thought I looked like my mother, and I did for the most part, but there was no mistaking my relation to Damien. My eyes and hair matched his precisely.

The boys reiterated their demands to grandpa, who peered up at me from under hooded eyes.

“Boys, why don’t you take your sister to the room for a few minutes while I talk with your parents?”

Hope flared in Ian’s eyes as he quickly took Lizzy’s hand and ushered his brothers down the hall.

“Is Mommy in trouble?” Mathew whispered loudly. Even if we weren’t vampires, we’d have heard him.

“Yep,” Ian replied back. “Grandpa is going to let her have it. If you’re quiet, you’ll be able to hear from my room”

I rolled my eyes as Grayson stifled a chuckle at the boys’ conversation. The door to Ian’s room opened, but there was no corresponding click of its secure closing.

“Shut it all the way, Ian,” I called out.

“Damn it,” he mumbled.

“What did you say!?!” I yelled, shoving off the couch to stand. The door quickly slammed shut.

I turned back to my father who pinned me with his hard stare. “I’m not really in the mood for a lecture.” I let myself fall back against the couch, crossing my legs in the process, making a mental note to discuss with Ian his use of crude language. I had no doubt he’d heard it from any number of sources around the tower.

“What about an observation?” He sat down in the couch across from me. “The boys are driving you and everyone else in the vicinity mad.”

“It doesn't take a detective to figure that out.”

“So, why are you not fixing it?”

My brow furrowed because the answer to his question seemed blatantly obvious. Because I was out of options. “And how would you propose I fix it?” I asked, exasperation heavy in my voice. If my father had some idea I had not already visited, I was all ears.

“Take them out of the tower to observe their Christmas traditions.”

I groaned placing my head in my palms. For a moment, I thought he might have had a legitimate idea.

“I agree with your father, Gaby,” Grayson stated, yanking me out of my pity-party.

“What?” My head jerked in his direction, but the businesslike expression on his face told me he was completely earnest. “You can’t be serious! I know you’ve been against this plan from the start, but what you’re suggesting…”

“What I’m suggesting is we are in a building filled with vampires. I know it is the benefit of keeping them locked up here, but what if we took a group with us? It doesn’t even have to be all vampires. I’m sure if you called Shawn, he could arrange some werewolves too.”

The local werewolf pack worked as bodyguards and had done other jobs for us over the years. They would go out in the daylight hours, unlike the vampires at my parents’ disposal and their sense of smell was much keener than any vampire.

“Your husband has a point, Gabriella. The children want to go. How many guards would make you feel comfortable enough to take them to go get hot chocolate and go ice skating?”

Was there a number?

“Ten,” I stated with conviction, letting them know I would not be budged.

“Ten?” My father’s brow rose stunned by such a number, but his voice sounded relieved. “I have to say, Gabriella, I thought you’d ask for more.”

“She means each,” Grayson added. His gray eyes filled with humor as they settled on me.

“Each?” Damien asked.

I nodded.

“Gabriella, forty guards…”

“Thirty,” I cut in. “Lizzy is too little. Even with guards on her, she’ll be a handful and this outing is not the time to be distracted. Thirty guards, at least six werewolves, two for each child and you will go with us since you think it’s such a good idea to take the children out in the middle of this ordeal. I’ll even let you be counted as one of the guards. So, really twenty-nine.” I stood and my father did the same. His old school manners wouldn’t allow him to remain seated while a woman stood. “If anything happens to my children, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“There’s no need, my daughter. I’d hold myself responsible and do anything to return them home to you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I sighed, trying to resign myself to the idea that this was happening.

“I’ll depart now and gather the guards as you requested. We’ll leave at sundown.”

Chapter 5

I stood alone by the side of the ice rink, watching the boys skate. Grayson was out on the ice, helping Matt, who was refusing to move for fear he’d slip. The vampire guards surrounded the ice rink, blending in with the humans who were enjoying the holiday merriment. The scents of sweat and chocolate were a pungent perfume drifting along the breeze. Laughter mixed with the occasional cough or sneeze made music to the rhythm of the skates scraping across the ice. The lights glared off the rink, forcing me to avert my gaze several times as I attempted to follow all three of my boys around as they skated. It was an impossible task, but I struggled to do it.

“Enjoying the general splendor?” A man asked, startling me. I’d been so engrossed in my mission I hadn’t heard him approach.

I turned quickly, taking him in and was stunned by what I saw. The man was well into his fifties, judging by the clusters of lines on his face. He had a well-trimmed beard which was more gray than dark brown. But, it was his body that threw me. He was incredibly fit for a man of his age. His taut muscles bulged against the dark forest green business suit. Swap his suit for red and he’d look like a woman’s fantasy version of a sexy Santa.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled, as if finding my confusion amusing.

“I simply mean, you’re staring so hard at the ice. Are you trying to melt it?”

My brow knitted as I stared at the handsome stranger. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to flirt with me, because there was an uneasy vibe radiating from him telling me to back away slowly.

“I’m watching my kids,” I stated turning back to face the ice. I caught Grayson watching me. Noticing my body’s tension, he grabbed Mathew into his arms and was slowly making his way through the crowd toward me.

“Kids? So, you have more than one?”

Normally I’d have no issue with someone trying to make conversation, but the stranger, for some unknown reason, had unsettled me. He’d done nothing to make me feel such a way, but something told me not to tell him about the kids. Perhaps it was Sebastian’s warning, but it felt like it was more.

I turned, eyeing the man again. He smelled oddly, of peppermint and something even my vampire senses were struggling to identify. Was it…? I inhaled again. Sulfur.

Warning bells sounded in my mind as the scent jolted a memory I had long ago forced away. Demon.

“Krampus,” I hissed, causing the man to beam.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. I was told you were a sucker for a pretty face, what with your husband’s extraordinary looks,” he glanced past me toward Grayson, who was quickly approaching, but the ice skaters seemed oblivious to his urgency and continued to block his way. “And your angel lover’s unearthly physique, yet you saw right past me.” He leaned in closer to me, the sulfurous stench grew even stronger. I wanted to back away, but I refused to move. I would not give him the satisfaction. “Tell me, what gave me away?”

“Your persistence.”

He smiled crookedly and shrugged. “Well, I had to keep you distracted.”

“Distracted?”

His smile turned mischievous before glancing at the hoard of people behind me. “Will you look at that? It seems one of your offspring has vanished.”

I spun to face the crowd, quickly scanning and assessing. Grayson had Matt. Ian was across the rink being idolized for his skills by some kids his age. Charlie was… I scanned the rink again. Where was Charlie?

“Merry Christmas, Gabriella.”

I turned back to face Krampus, but he had vanished.

“Gaby?” Grayson asked seeing my panicked expression.

“Charlie!” I yelled. “Where’s Charlie?”

Chapter 6

Grayson clung to Matt as he turned back to the rink, scanning the crowd for our middle boy. The people around us carried on, unaware of the panic we were feeling.

“Missing something?”

I turned to face the source of the voice, and Sebastian’s pinched expression caught my eye, but I ignored it, focusing entirely on my son in his arms.

“Charlie,” I breathed, grabbing the boy from the angel and holding him to me with such intensity I worried I might break him.

“I found him trying to buy a pretzel.”

Damien appeared at my side a moment later. “My apologies, Gabriella. Johnathan took his eyes off Charles for a moment to give a man the time.”

“It’s fine.” I waved him off, feeling grateful simply to have my son. I didn’t care who was to blame for his momentary disappearance. Charlie was safe, and that was all that mattered to me.

“No, it’s not fine,” Sebastian spat. “What in the hell are you all thinking? Bringing the kids on an outing now? I take half an hour to check out a potential lead on Krampus’s location, and you do the one thing I warned you against.”

“Well your lead must have been shit, because he was here,” I spat back, my hackles raised. Sebastian had no right to question our parenting decisions. Did he?

“How the hell do you think I found you?!”

“Sebastian,” my father sighed, attempting to defuse the situation. “The children…” he began, but his ringing phone cut him off. He held up his finger to us, before stepping away to take the call, which left me to deal with the furious angel.

I became the only recipient of Sebastian’s enraged glare. “Two more days, Gaby. They’d have been distracted tomorrow with Christmas Eve and then it would be over. But you all risked…"

“Sebastian,” my father’s voice held a fearful tone which silenced even the angel’s verbal lashing.

“Dad?” My own anxiety fluttered as I read his tone and waited for whatever revelation had placed such an anguished look on his face.

“Your mother called.” He paused which only panicked me more. “Gabriella, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Lizzy. She’s missing.”

Grayson cradled me to his chest. He was my anchor and I clung to him. I wanted to do something, anything, but at the moment there was nothing to be done, so I held onto my husband desperately and waited.

My head laid against Grayson’s shoulder. I watched Sebastian, his eyes closed, deep in concentration. He appeared to be meditating, and it was a similar mental state. Focused, he attempted to get a read on Lizzy. Being a guardian angel wasn’t at all like in the movies. Sebastian couldn’t simply ping into her whereabouts, not unless she was in danger or she called for him. When he kept his sights on the kids, it was because he already knew where they were. It was a brilliant plan on the demon’s part. We had assumed Lizzy was safe in the tower, and put all our efforts toward protecting the boys. A smart demon would assume the guardian angel would follow them, and while Sebastian had been off on a small mission, the demon had been right in assuming Lizzy would be an easier target.

We’d searched every inch of the tower, and found no clue as to where or even how the demon grabbed her. So now we waited. The moment Sebastian was keyed into her location, he’d grab me and dissipate us to wherever she was. I had my cell phone on me with the tracking turned on. Damien would use my phone signal to follow us. If it was daylight, then the wolves would be our backup.

I turned my head slightly to see my best friend, Shawn, speaking quietly with my father. While my father’s raven hair shimmered with a touch of blue, Shawn’s own ebony locks lacked that element. His caramel skin looked even darker next to my father’s pale ivory. In certain ways they looked so similar, and yet so different. Shawn’s husband, Stefan, leaned against the wall just feet away from his partner. His arms folded over his slim chest and his chestnut hair fell into his eyes. While Stefan never openly rebelled against my relationship with Shawn, he was obviously uncomfortable being in the den of the first vampire.

The vampire and wolf kept trading glances my way, and for a moment I debated on eavesdropping on their conversation. It wouldn’t take much effort and it would distract me for a moment, but it occurred to me that I didn't care. It was likely related to their shared belief I should not accompany Sebastian on his mission to recover Lizzy. Everyone seemed against it. Everyone but Grayson and Sebastian, that was. It should have bothered me how well the two men knew me. Grayson wanted to rescue Lizzy too, but he understood my need to be there and neither of us wanted to leave the boys alone.

“Got her,” Sebastian announced, yanking me from my thoughts. “They’re five miles from here, moving on foot.” He held his hand out to me. With a quick glance at my husband, who nodded somberly, I placed my palm against Sebastian’s and allowed him to pull me into his embrace. “We need to hurry.”

During our search of the tower and the area surrounding it, it had been debated whether or not Sebastian should simply go alone. He could dissipate in and out faster than even demons could blink. But, he wasn’t sure if the demons might be prepared for that.

Years ago, when the archangel Micheal had kidnapped, and was preparing to kill me, he’d used a standard handcuff to hold me. I should have been able to easily break them with my vampiric strength, but he also used arcane sigils written with something as mundane as a permanent marker, which amplified the strength of the handcuffs and prevented me from breaking them. If something like that could be so simply accomplished, what was to say there wasn't a way to stop Sebastian from dissipating?

So, I would go with the children’s guardian angel with Damien and his horde on our tail. Even if we were captured, we might delay them long enough for my father to catch up.

Inhaling sharply, I felt my blood calm, soothed by Sebastian’s nearness. It was a brief reprieve before my skin crawled and my stomach dropped as we dissipated.

Chapter 7

My fingers dug into Sebastian’s arms as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Dissipating was an instant process, so I’d expected the darkness of night. Yet, this was absolute inky blackness. Lights lit up the city no matter the hour. My supernatural vision was kicking in, allowing me to see in the dark abyss. A few blinks, and I realized we were under ground. Graffiti covered the damp concrete walls. The pipes above us shuddered, followed by the roar of a passing subway. The musky tang of stagnant water blended with the scent of decomposition, making it hard to focus on anything but the repulsive smell.

Covering my nose with my wrist, I stepped away from Sebastian, kicking debris I hadn’t noticed. Before my foot could connect with the ground, I was yanked back against his hard, muscular chest. Instantly, my entire body was aware of how close we were. I swallowed hard, reminding myself this wasn’t the time to lose my head. Sebastian was attractive and I doubted there would ever be a time I would think otherwise, but my daughter was missing. Remembering that cleared my head of the emotions and old feelings that would normally cloud my mind from his presence.

“You almost stepped off the edge.” His warm breath danced across my face as he whispered.

The edge? Furrowing my brow, I glanced over where I’d been about to step. Not only were we underground, but we were in a sewer and Sebastian had saved me from taking a dive into stagnant sewage, depth unknown. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Not only for my blunder, but for thinking Sebastian was being anything other than a gentleman.

“They’re just past the bend.”

I wanted to push past him and race for my daughter. The need to wrap my arms around her was overwhelming, but deep down I knew it would only make our job harder. We had a plan and I needed to stick to it.

I nodded to Sebastian, who withdrew his angelic blade from nonexistence. While the sword strapped to my back wasn’t anything as spectacular as his, it was my pride and joy and it had been some time since it had tasted blood. The blade practically hummed in my hand, begging to be used.

Sebastian grabbed me by my upper arm. With a raise of his brow he asked an unspoken question. Are you ready? I nodded. We dissipated and reappeared within the center of the swarm of demons. A fraction of a second passed as the demons registered our sudden appearance. A water droplet splattered against the concrete ground, resounding loudly in the eerie silences. A dull glow cast a slight light in this section of the tunnel coming from the emergency lights. My foot slipped across the slime that coated the ground, as I shifted into my battle stance. The scent of rot was stronger here too, as there was no air flow. We quickly evaluated the swarm and scanned for Lizzy, who didn’t seem to be there, before all hell broke loose.

These were unlike any demons I’d ever seen. Demons aren’t capable of physical life on our plane, so they possess humans and use them as hosts. But these beings appeared anything but human. Their graying skin stretched over their skeletal forms, which lacked hair everywhere. Knots of boney tissue, or perhaps they were bones that hadn't healed properly, protruded oddly from random places under their skin. Two were female judging by the deflated sacks hanging on their chests where their breasts once had been. The rest were men, in the loosest sense of the word. One had been castrated. None seemed bothered by their various states of nudity.

I spun, placing my back against Sebastian’s as the first demon launched our way. The demonic mob seemed more focused on my angelic companion, perhaps deciding he was more of a threat. They were wrong to underestimate me. I was Gabriella Carmichael-Alexander, daughter of the first vampire and mother to the daywalking race. I was both a princess and queen in my own right, and one of the most powerful beings on the planet. It had taken me a long time to come to terms with who I was, after being made to feel less my whole life. But I knew now, and I’d be damned if the demons weren't going to take me as a serious threat. Beyond that, I was a mother and these bastards stood between me and my baby.

The demons on my side of the room were moving toward Sebastian. Their plan was easy enough to interpret. Kill or incapacitate Sebastian, then handle me. I almost laughed at their idiocy.

My sword raised on its own accord, halting the first demon like a boom barrier. He blinked, feeling the cold metal blade against his naked chest. I could have ended him before he even noticed me, but part of me wanted to give them a fighting chance. Although, I doubted the same courtesy would have been shown to me. His muscles flexed, preparing to attack. I withdrew my blade and with blinding speed, made three slices across the demon. He froze, seeming unharmed for a heartbeat. Then, blood seeped from an X across his chest and the line across his throat. Crimson spilled from his lips as he clutched his neck, but the slice there was deeper than the other two. If he’d been human, he’d have lost his head. How he’d kept it was beyond me.

The two others who had been moving to attack Sebastian now froze, stunned as their companion fell to the floor. Their gazes locked on me, filled with hatred. I couldn’t help but smirk. Finally, something productive! It was the first real action I could take since Lizzy vanished.

The demons were nothing for Sebastian and me. In less than five minutes’ time, we stood in silence, surrounded by seven dead or dying demons. I glanced at the shallow cuts on my arm and stomach, but they were slowly healing. It’d been too long since I fed, otherwise the wounds would have been closed by now.

I stared at Sebastian, who was covered in blood, yet I doubted any was his, as I’d yet to see even a scratch on him.

“Where’s Lizzy?” I asked.

A slow, steady clapping echoed off the concrete walls. I gripped my sword tighter and spun to face the new arrival, preparing myself for another attack.

The man who’d approached me at the rink stepped out of the shadows and emerged, highlighted by the fading emergency lights.

“Krampus,” I hissed.

He chuckled. “That is one of the many names humans have deigned to call me over the centuries. I will admit, it is one of the more popular ones.” His brow wrinkled quizzically. “Did you know my celebration even rivals Saint Nick?”

“Where’s my daughter?” I demanded, growing tired of his pointless chatter.

“Worry not. She’s safe. How long she remains that way? Well, is up to you.”

I peered at Sebastian who had moved to stand by my side. He nodded. He didn’t sense Lizzy’s fear any longer.

“What do you want?” Even as I spoke, I was scanning the area, but not in an obvious way. I didn't dare lower my guard. I was prepared for another attack. I was also prepared for any opportunity to discover Lizzy, grab her, and rush her to Sebastian.

“A trade. Your daughter, in exchange for five children under the age of five. Bring them to me before midnight on the twenty-fifth and I’ll return your daughter to you.”

My face was impassive, but inside I was shocked by his request. He had to know I would never rob a family of their children. I would find a way to get Lizzy back, but not like that.

“Why under five?”

He shrugged. “At the age, they’re still clay waiting to be molded. It’s easy for them to forget their family. You've seen what they can become.” He gestured to my feet. I stared at the bodies surrounding me. No… The beings we killed weren’t demons. They were corrupted children who’d matured to adulthood. What had he done to them?

Sebastian tensed next to me, perhaps coming to the same realization.

“And what’s to stop me from doing this?” Sebastian asked, before dissipating and reappearing in front of the demon. Sebastian reared back and plunged his sword forward. I gasped, feeling a blade sink into my back. Before Sebastian’s sword made contact, the demon had vanished. It wasn’t possible, I told myself. The unmistakable scent of peppermint and sulfur engulfed my senses overwhelming even the scent of the sewer. The demon could teleport. I groaned, not from the pain, but because I was now certain Lizzy wasn’t here.

“It’s been some time since you’ve fed hasn’t it, Gabriella?” He hissed in my ear as he twisted the knife within my flesh, making me scream. Sebastian tensed, preparing to attack the demon. “Ah ah ah,” the demon scolded. “I’ve lacerated her liver and judging by the lack of healing on her other wounds, I wonder? In a race between her bleeding out and her supernatural healing, which would win? Do you wish to find out?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth but didn’t lunge.

“Instead of five, let’s make it ten children.” He laughed as he vanished, taking his knife with him.

I hadn’t been aware Krampus was supporting my weight until he was gone. Losing my balance, I collapsed falling toward the floor. Sebastian rushed towards me. His arms enveloping me as he eased my fall.

“I’m sorry, Gaby.” Settling me to the ground, he withdrew his hand, which was coated completely crimson. His green eyes narrowed at the sight of my blood, before they stared hard at my face. I saw the moment the decision flashed across his face. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn’t prepared for it when Sebastian thrust his wrist into my mouth. My fangs had descended at some point, whether during the fighting or due to the pain inflicted when Krampus stabbed me, I didn’t know. But, Sebastian used them to scrape his wrist, causing a trickle of blood to pour into my mouth. I gasped and sunk my teeth into his skin without thought.

Feeding on Sebastian wasn't new, but in the past, I had my mental walls securely in place. When it came to feeding on the opposite sex, it could easily become something sexual if you weren't careful. With Sebastian that urge was always stronger thanks to our blood tie.

He groaned, feeling my teeth puncture his flesh. His eyes were closed, and his muscles tensed. He made no attempt to move, doing everything in his power to hold himself perfectly still. I, on the other hand, was in the land of euphoria. Desire pooled between my thighs, causing me to clench them together in hopes to relieve the ache. My nipples hardened, begging for attention. I released him, panting with desire. Sebastian launched himself backward, sliding a few feet away. I swallowed hard as his gaze locked with mine. Somehow, during the feeding, I had risen to my knees.

“That was…” he hesitated, seeking the right word.

“Intense?” I offered. Talking would help ease the sexual tension neither of us was willing to commit to.

He nodded. “More so than I remember.” It had been years since I needed to feed on him, but time didn’t ease the intensity. If anything, it was stronger. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked the demon.”

I waved him off staring down at my own blood coating the concrete beneath me. “I was looking for an opening myself.”

“We can’t give him ten children.” Sebastian stood, his face determined.

“I know, but we need a plan. He can teleport Sebastian.”

“But he cannot teleport back to Hell. The Hell gate closest to Manhattan is in Salem. Damien already has a crew guarding it. He has since you locked the kids down. We only need to make Krampus pause long enough for me to grab Lizzy and get her away from him. Midnight on Christmas gives him very little time to give chase. Even if he can follow me when I dissipate, it won’t matter, because at the stroke of twelve he must return. I just have to keep Lizzy out of his grasp until then.”

“Let’s get back to the tower and let the others know what we learned and devise a plan to get my baby back.”

Sebastian approached me. The earlier tension forgotten or shoved down where it would no longer be an issue. His arm slid around my hips tugging me close in a familiar embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and let him hug me for a moment. The blood tie relished his nearness and retreated to a low hum, one much more peaceful and not the nagging desire I normally felt from his proximity. “We’ll get her back, Gaby. I promise you.”

Deep down, I believed him.

Chapter 8

Showering, beads of pure bliss rained along my tense muscles, erasing the signs of battle. I wish I could say it was the first time I stood under the warm spray, watching the water turn a pinkish hue as other’s blood washed from me. It wasn’t by a long shot, although it had been awhile.

The glass door encasing me opened. Plumes of steam rushed to escape. I didn’t mind losing some of the warmth, especially when strong arms wrapped around my belly.

“The boys?” I asked, not wanting them left alone, especially after learning the demon could teleport in.

“Sleeping in your parents’ room, surrounded by an ungodly number of vampires, werewolves, and one guardian angel,” he whispered against my neck, his stubble scraping against my skin. It had been a long few days and Grayson had been skipping the use of his razor. Not that I minded. I rather enjoyed a slightly unkept look on him.

Letting my head fall back, I gave him better access. He seized the opportunity, moving in even closer to pepper my neck and shoulders with kisses. Grayson knew me better than anyone. I was stuck in my head, driving myself crazy. He knew how to get me out, even if just temporarily.

My muscles began to relax, enjoying the feel of his lips and his hands splayed against my stomach. They moved ever so slightly, slipping across my wet skin.

Smiling, I turned in his arms and captured his lips. He kissed me back hungrily, his tongue demanding, his teeth nipping hard enough to cause the smallest twinge of pain. His right hand slid over my backside, cupping my ass, while his left grasped my breast and tweaked my nipple. I groaned, arching into him. He knew all my cues. Every gasp, every move, meant something and only Grayson knew exactly how to interpret my body’s language.

His lips trailed down, tongue tasting my skin. I moaned, feeling the warmth of his mouth as it claimed my nipple before eagerly switching to its partner.

“Grayson,” I moaned.

He stood, turned me to face the cool tile, the temperature change a shock to my already hardened and overly sensitive nipples, and grasped my hips. I pressed them back, giving him a better angle, every nerve anticipating his touch. The tip of his erection brushed against my sensitive flesh.

“God yes!” I cried out as he thrust into me. Making love with Grayson was always an incredible experience. Sometimes he was gentle and slow, and others he could make me scream with his sheer ferocity. Tonight, it was somewhere in the middle and somehow, he knew it was exactly what I needed. I arched back. Finding his mouth, I slipped my tongue past his lips. One of his hands toyed with my nipple, while the other dipped between my thighs to circle my clit.

The orgasm came out of nowhere. Grayson’s arm tightened around me, holding me up as my knees gave out. He continued his onslaught, drawing out my pleasure, until, with a final grunt, he spilled himself inside me.

My muscles quivered afterwards, while he did nothing but hold me as I relished the postcoital glow. All too soon, he withdrew and the problems that plagued me rushed back. I couldn’t spend the next two days in bed with him simply to distract myself, and I wouldn’t want to. I needed to get my daughter back, and not only to protect her for another year, but indefinitely.

“I think I might have a plan,” Grayson stated, as if knowing where my mind was.

Seeing his devious expression, I wondered if I going to dislike this idea?

I swiped at the cobwebs tickling my arm. The invisible threads attacking me were doing their best to hinder my attention. The uneven stones beneath my feet would make any standoff more difficult. I’d walked them multiple times since arriving, and was now confident I wouldn’t fall prey to their impediment.

The Salem Hell Gate wasn’t at all what I had expected. Alters and fire pits perhaps, but what I found was a structurally sound empty room which showed no signs of blood sacrifices, only age and abandonment. Dust and cobwebs covered the archway of the gate. The stone walls were stained black from years of neglect. The air was stale and dirty.

Grayson and Sebastian flanked me on either side. Both were dressed in casual attire, a facade for Krampus meant to make them seem less threatening but would also allow both men the freedom to move if fighting did commence. In front of us stood ten small children, each between the ages of three and five. Not a single one had tears in their eyes. Rather, each showed expressions of fierce determination.

Lizzy hadn't popped up on Sebastian's radar in the past forty-eight hours, at least not in the traditional way. He’d been entirely focused on her, seeking any tiny inkling as to where she was. He was getting glimpses but nothing concrete. He saw snippets of Christmas red and fake snow, so at least we knew she wasn’t in Hell. Wherever she was, she wasn’t frightened and until she was, Sebastian couldn’t lock on to her.

The guards Damien had posted stood at my back in a chain, prepared to prevent Krampus from crossing through the gate. I checked my watch. It was ten ‘til midnight. I wondered briefly if Sebastian was wrong about the demon’s teleportation abilities. Just as I considered this, Krampus blinked into existence in front of us with a sack on his back.

I eyed Sebastian with my peripheral vision. He shook his head. If Lizzy was in there, she wasn’t afraid which made no sense.

The bag squirmed and whimpered as he set it on the ground beside his feet. Did he have other children in there? The cries were pitiful, yet they barely sounded human.

Krampus smirked, his filthy gaze raking over the children before me as if they were edible treats. “I didn't think you had it in you, Gabriella. Selfishly, you’d trade ten children for one?”

“I’m not their mother. Their parents should have protected them more diligently. Now enough talking. Where’s my daughter?” I growled.

“Well, I'll have to talk to tell you that,” He laughed, enjoying his game.

“Where is she?” I repeated, forcing myself to stand still even as I clenched my fists.

“Perhaps she’s here,” he toed the bag, causing another whine to escape.

Gritting my teeth, I gripped my sword tighter. “She's not.”

“Ah, so your angel lover is more than he appears. I’ve heard rumors he’s drawn to your blood. Is it true? Is he drawn to hers too, perhaps?” When no one responded, he decided he missed his mark. “No? A guardian angel then. How sad it must be for you, Angel, to fall and rise, but find yourself in a lesser post than you once held.”

He was grasping at straws, trying to do anything to stir up discord. He was searching for a raw nerve, a crack in our armor, but it was nothing we hadn’t heard before.

“Enough!” I barked. “My daughter?!”

“Give me the children and I’ll tell you,” He demanded in a sing song voice, mocking the exchange.

“Do I look like I was born yesterday? They are my only leverage. Until we have my daughter, you get nothing.”

“I suppose we are at an impasse then,” He replied gruffly. He reached down to grab the bag lying at his feet, but was met with Sebastian's sword at his throat. The angel moved so quickly; he went from nonthreatening bystander to warrior in an instant. The demon’s mouth turned up in the corners. “Haven’t we already played this game before? It didn’t end well for you last time.”

“The girl,” Sebastian demanded.

“The children?” Krampus aimed the question at me.

“Are yours if you can take them.”

“I’m no fool, Gabriella Alexander. You play with your words. There is something preventing me from taking these children. Magic, or some other unseen force.”

I glanced down at the children, as they stared at the demon, sending daggers his way. “There is nothing, but their own sheer will.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” The demon stood, Sebastian’s blade following him up the whole way. “A deal then. I take the children, and in exchange I return your daughter to you.”

“Now who’s playing with words. I want all my children safe, Krampus, and for you to never attempt to take any of them, nor any from my line, ever again. In exchange, you can have these children, but I will not, nor will any of mine, assist you to incapacitate them. We will not intervene and help them escape either.”

“That is a tall order.”

“So was yours and yet…” I gestured to the ten small children before me.

“I don’t know. Returning your daughter in exchange for them seems like a fair deal, but to never attempt to steal another daywalker for a mere ten children now seems a far reach. I can always find more children next year, but a daywalking vampire? Now, that is a rare treat indeed.”

I knew from the moment I met Krampus at the ice rink he would turn this into a game. It wasn’t merely about taking one of my kids, but also about toying with me along the way. He knew my sense of morality would never allow me to sacrifice ten children, and yet he demanded it. Now that I stood here with said children, he was attempting to find another way to play.

“Yes, but that would mean going an entire year without children. Lizzy is not here. It means with the time…”

I glanced back at Grayson, who checked his watch. “Five ‘til midnight.”

“You’d never make it through the gate if you teleport away to grab her, as you’d also have to go through all of us.”

He beamed showing his too perfect smile. “You seem to have it all figured out, but what's to stop me from teleporting behind you all and simply stepping over the final threshold? This is my territory, after all. Not yours.”

Sebastian answered, calling his bluff. “We’re standing in a void zone. You came in where you did because it’s as close as you can get. You’ll have to fight your way through.”

“Clever angel.” Krampus’s grin faded and he sighed out his discontent. “Very well. If you truly want the girl, I require a show of good faith. Send one of the children through the portal, and I’ll tell you where she is. Then, I will wrangle the rest of the children. Once you have her, you will let us pass. Do we have an accord?”

That had not been part of our plan. I had no interest in sending anyone through the Hell Gate. Krampus only needed the gate to take the children through. He himself would disappear back into Hell once Christmas Day ended. Our original plan had been to occupy him until midnight, but we hadn’t been completely sure he’d bring Lizzy along and it seemed we were right to worry. I needed to know where she was before he vanished.

“I’ll go.” A little boy, who appeared no older than five, peered up at me. His raven hair hung into his big blue eyes which stared at me showing wisdom beyond his years.

“That wasn't part of the plan,” I whispered back.

He raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Plans change, Gabriella. You need to get your daughter back.” He glanced at Krampus. “I’ll go willingly.”

The surprise that sprang across the demon’s face was epic, but he quickly masked it. “Deal.”

The little boy turned toward the guards who hesitated, uncertain whether they should allow him to pass, but in the end, no one wanted to be the one who stood in his way. Everything within me argued to stop him, to find another way, but we were out of time and options.

“Wait!” Sebastian called out. I tore my focus from the boy’s slow march into Hell, and turned to the angel whose face was lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “I know where she is!”

My eyes widened, taking a moment to process his words. When they sank in, I twisted toward the demon whose expression was just as shocked. “Deal’s off,” I announced triumphantly. I turned to Sebastian. “Plan B.”

The angel grabbed Grayson and vanished. The rage and bewilderment on Krampus’s face was priceless. Sebastian wasn’t bound to the same rules as the demon. While he couldn’t dissipate into Hell, the gate didn’t hinder him the way it did the demon, who had stepped over into the void zone without realizing it.

“Metalto!” I hollered. The spell on the children evaporated, returning them into full grown adults.

The little boy who stood ready to cross into Hell, was revealed as my father, Damien. He moved between the guards toward the nine other newly returned adults, each poised to occupy Krampus and allow Sebastian and Grayson the time needed to find Lizzy. Half of the group moved behind the demon, in case he attempted to leave the void.

Krampus glared at me, smoke literally coming out of his ears. “You’ve broken a deal with me?” He hissed. “I tried to play nice, but you want me to behave like a demon? Fine.” The man that was Krampus morphed. His body stretched, growing taller and distorting. His muscles bulged, ripping away his suit as it fell away in tattered strips, revealing a fur clad torso. Horns sprouted from his head, while his legs popped and contorted sickeningly, bending into an animalistic angle. The man was replaced by the beast of legend.

“Hold your ground!” Damien ordered as several of the vampires began withdrawing from the satanic monster.

Krampus roared, causing everyone to flinch, but not a single one fled.

Letting loose a battle cry of my own, I felt my fangs descend and my eyes change from sapphire blue to honey green as I slipped into my vampire form and lunged for the demon. The others followed me. Krampus was a beast, and not only in appearance. He swiped away vampires two at a time. He swung at me, but I jumped in time, barely managing to avoid his claws, as I flipped over him, stabbing out with my sword as I began my descent. It was a strategic move I had practiced many times over the years, although this was the first real fight, I'd attempted it. My blade contacted his neck, slicing true and causing Krampus to scream in fury. I landed with my back to him, so I didn't see his return attack until it was too late to react. I prepared myself for the blow, and was tossed across the room. I slid along the floor, coming to stop mere inches from crossing through the gate. Any closer, and I would have been spending my holidays in Hell.

Not giving myself any time to recover, I was back on my feet racing with a vampiric speed toward the demon who was now busy fighting my father. I paused, ready to assist Damien, only to see him away like a wad of crumpled wrapping paper as well.

The demon smiled, his lips stretching to reveal a mouth of glistening fangs. “It's just us now, Gabriella,” It cooed, the voice distorted by vocal cords not intended for human speech.

My phone vibrated, alerting me only sixty seconds remained until midnight. Just a little longer.

We collided. Krampus raked out with his claws, which I met with my sword. I couldn’t get close enough to do any real damage, not without risking injury myself. I could simply hold him off, but then next year we’d be in this same position. I needed to finish this. He had to be so grievously injured that he would hesitate to ever come after my children again.

Krampus saw the opening I created and didn’t hesitate. His claws embedded in my stomach, but I had already thrown all of my power behind my sword. As his claws dug in, pulling me closer, I swung, making contact, and slicing through one of his horns. He didn’t scream, but stared in open-mouthed shock as the chunk of corneous clattered at his feet. His claws retracted, releasing me. Ignoring my pain, I sliced across his thigh until my sword landed between his legs, stopping just shy of where I assumed his manhood must hide.

“You come after my family again, and next time I'll let my sword follow through. You’re a demon, so I can’t kill you, but I wonder? If I cut something off with my magically enhance sword,” I annunciated my point by pressing my sword harder, the blade digging into his groin. “Will it grow back?”

His eyes narrowed, but I saw past the hostility he used as a mask. He was scared. He may be a demon, but like any male, his manhood meant everything to him.

“Merry Christmas, Krampus,” I spat.

He growled in reply, before vanishing into thin air. I had been putting so much force onto my sword, I stumbled forward when he disappeared.

Sebastian reappeared seconds later, alone. At first, I was terrified, but then I saw the ecstatic expression he held.

“We found her,” he beamed.

Chapter 9

“A warehouse made to look like a Christmas wonderland?” I asked, holding Lizzy on my lap as all three boys curled up with me on the couch. I barely took a moment to clean up, torn between not wishing to worry the children with the sight of blood, but also not wanting to be parted from them. “All those glimpses make sense now.”

Sebastian nodded with a pronounced smirk. “And why she wasn't afraid,” he added.

Grayson sat beside me. His hand rested on Lizzy, who had fallen asleep on my chest, but she had her arms wrapped around what I was sure was now the newest addition to our family. Turns out what Krampus held captive within his sack were two large puppies. My father had made a calculated error and arrived in our rooms with both dogs squirming in his arms. Lizzy hadn’t parted with the dog since. The other laid at Sebastian’s feet. Why the demon had puppies in his bag was something I never wanted to know.

“It’s brilliant actually,” Grayson stated. “What kid would be frightened in a Christmas paradise?”

“If she hadn’t scratched her arm…” Sebastian began, but shook away the thought. I didn’t want to consider what would have happened either. “Good thing she’s too young to remember being kidnapped by a demon.”

“Are we doing the right thing?” I asked Grayson.

Damien had offered to pay the witch, the same one who had cast the spells on all the vampires in order to make them appear as children, to erase the last two and a half days from all the kids’ memories, but Grayson and I had declined. While I hoped I got my point across to Krampus, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t try again. They needed to be diligent.

Grayson nodded. “If we were to take their memories and something happened to them or their children because of it, we would never forgive ourselves.”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Sebastian treaded carefully, “But I think it's the right choice. They’re young enough that they may think it only a bad dream, but if he comes back, they’ll remember. They aren’t normal children with normal lives and never will be, no matter how much you might want to protect them from that.”

He was right, of course, but it didn't mean I would stop fighting for them to have a childhood free from preternatural interference.

“Is it too late for our trip to Colorado?” I asked, causing both men to eye me quizzically after such an abrupt topic change. I shrugged and said, “I think we could all really use a holiday do-over.”

One year later

Snow flurries swirled around skyscrapers, dusting them with the signs of winter. The scent of car exhaust mixed with the sweet aroma of hot chocolate and tickled my nose in an uncomfortable way. We’d been at the ice rink for a while and it was almost time to call it a night. The sound of squealing children and wind whipping past the buildings met my ears. I breathed it all in, ready to return to the tower. I was here for the kids. I couldn't keep them locked up because it was Christmas time.

I stood by the side of the ice rink, watching all four children play. Grayson was on the ice helping Lizzy. My parents were both out there assisting the children as they needed, but I saw their watchful gazes diligently scanning the surroundings. The children seemed unaware they were surrounded by vampires, all of whom were on guard duty. In just over a day, I could finally relax as Christmas passed by, until next year, of course.

For the past two weeks, I’d been a bundle of anxiety, but I’d been doing my best not to let it show. Grayson was aware, even without my having to say a word. He did his best to ease that tension, but it remained a constant companion.

The only saving grace was Sebastian had yet to appear. Whether it was because there was nothing to worry about, or because he knew we were already overly prepared, I couldn’t be sure.

“Across the rink,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. Speak of the devil. I didn’t glance around for Sebastian, but looked in the direction he indicated.

I peered up from where the kids were skating, and saw Krampus, in his human form, smirking at me. He had a scar across his hairline, one that hadn’t been there last year. It was exactly where his horn would be in his demonic form—if it still existed. I grinned in return.

“Bring it,” I mouthed.

His smile grew, showing off his teeth in a devilish grin, just before he vanished.

The End…?

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can also download Fate: The Edge of Forever Book 1 (A Paranormal Vampire Romance) and the rest of the Edge of Forever series!

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author D.C. Gambel is a mother, army wife, and a hopeless romantic. Romance has always been her genre of choice whether it's contemporary, historical, paranormal, or even pushing towards erotica in both reading and writing. When she first decided to try her hand at writing, romance was the obvious choice. Getting lost in a different world, living unimaginable lives is something she strives for even if it's just a temporary enjoyment.

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The Edge of Forever Series

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Christmas with the Alpha

A Teflon Wolf Pack Story

Alyssa Daring

About Christmas with the Alpha

Tabiya Youngblood looks forward to Christmas every year. Her bar, The Wanton Wolf, is the only regulated shifter biker bar in the Midwest and it’s her busiest time cause lonely shifters and rogue vampires need somewhere to celebrate the yuletide. But it’s not the presents, abundance of patrons, festive decorations or cozy nights by the fire that gets her motor racing.

The holiday season marks the return of Granger “Grix” Stone. But this year is different. Grix is back with a purpose. And he has choices to make because there’s a price on his head that could put their annual mating reunion in jeopardy. If he wants to secure his future and make his bond with Tabiya permanent, he has decisions to make. But will Tabiya follow him anywhere? Or is this the last Christmas they spend together?

Chapter 1

Tabiya Youngblood heard the roar of the motorcycle pulling up in front of The Wanton Wolf and her pulse quickened. She knew it would be him before Granger "Grix" Stone even stepped through the threshold. A sensation of miniature pinpricks along her spine, a warm flush washed over her body and for a moment a smile graced her lips.

He was home.

Tabiya closed her eyes, exhaled, and focused on the emotions coursing through her body. Her body went into arousal mode. Her heart pounded in her ears, and the beaming grin on her face had gone from small to wide and goofy.

It was part of the curse of their bond.

The hybrid witch wolf shifter and the future alpha. A non-realistic, non-existent fairy tale.

She tamped down her feelings and concentrated on the bar and the patrons. She glanced around the room until her gaze fell on her business partner and Hallowed Heart Coven sister, Khadijah Aimes looking at her with what Tabiya could only guess from her smirk was amusement coming towards where she was standing.

"I take it we're closing early." Khadijah leaned against the booth.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Tabiya shrugged. "He could just be here for a meeting."

"Yeah right." She laughed. "Christmas is only a few days away." She tilted her head, "Time for your annual holiday fuck fest."

"I wish you wouldn't call it that." Tabiya picked up three bottles of beer and poured three shots of tequila for Luanda the vampire waitress.

"Tab " Khadijah paused, "Sorry. But it's the truth. And I love you sis. But spare me the bond mumbo jumbo." She grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, staring into her eyes. "You deserve better than some wannabe rogue, scared of commitment, rogue alpha wolf. You need someone who will be here for you." She pulled her into a hug. "There comes a time when love isn't enough."

Tabiya crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "My heart and my head..." She stared at the scarred flooring. "I know." She nodded.

Part of her hated their connection. She was obligated to him and couldn't marry unless he severed the attachment. The other half loved their tenuous union. Grix was attentive in his lovemaking, made her feel like a cherished queen whenever he was around.

But she didn't want to saddle him with a broken mate who had problems with her animal shift.

It’s not your fault.

Her wolf had been damaged in a cruel, frivolous accident. And she was still recovering. And thanks to her coven and therapy she was doing better calling forth her wolf.

You just need to work on stamina and endurance.

Teflon Wolves were one of the most powerful packs in the region. Her coven protected the wildlands that the pack ruled. And being the youngest of both groups, Tabiya and Grix had been forced together during meetings, parties, and everything between.

He'd become her best friend, lover, and partner.

Seeing him standing there, made her realize how much she'd missed him.

Hot sex in black leather.

A full smile played briefly across his face as if he'd read her thoughts. And knowing him, he probably had.

The moment he stepped into the territory she'd felt his energy. It wasn't the hum of the engine or the purr of the machine. Motorcycles were the life's blood of her business. The Wanton Wolf was the only certified shifter biker bar in the region. She'd opened it as a safe place to party, hang and decompress without pack politics or supernatural laws affecting her sales.

The Christmas holiday was one of her busiest and favorite seasons. Lone wolfs, stray cubs, coven-less witches, fallen angels, and risen demons congregated together out of a need for something familiar.

She learned a long time ago that an obviously artificial tree was how to go for the bar. But her home was filled with natural pine, sweet apple, and savory nutmeg scents.

This year's motif home for the holidays highlighted by different hues of silver and blue. Baubles and trinkets in various shades were displayed throughout the dive chic aesthetic. Shimmery pearly lights twinkled around the beam and bluefish tea lights glowed from the antique sconces on each wall.

And Tabiya was happy to provide. Christmas was her favorite of all the holidays. She loved cozying up by the fireplace, decorating the bar with trinkets and ornaments from her travels. Each year, she looked forward to the return of Granger Stone for their annual holiday fuckfest. Not that she didn't indulge during other times of the year. But her Christmas romps with Grix were legendary in her mind. No one filled her or thrilled her like he did. He could make her come with just a look. And the things he could do with his tongue was illegal in three states.

Tabiya was perfectly content knowing that Grix was okay and living his life away from her. That he was happy. Their affair was complicated. They'd done the cohabitation thing, but reckless immaturity and youthful pride had interfered. Tabiya knew he still cared for her, perhaps even loved her, but their relationship existed in cycles and seasons.

Then the fighting had begun, wars between different groups erupted leading to regulations outlawing interspecies mixing passed.

Tabiya frowned, her gaze narrowed as she thought of the pain the laws caused for so many, like her parents.

And continued to cause.

The situation between the vampires, shifters, and other beings was precarious. That her brother Khaleesi was second in command to the head of the largest vampire family in the Midwest, Christoph Thorin of the Black Mark Clan, didn't help things either. It made for awkward family dinners.

Tab kept The Wanton Wolf neutral for anyone who entered.

But she didn't know if Grix was there because it was the holidays and they usually spent time together, rumors of the pending trouble in the territory with the Steeltooth Pride or to finally take his place as pack alpha since his uncle's killing.

"Bar's closed," Grix stood in the doorway. His black motorcycle boots showed their age, the tight black t-shirt strained against his muscular torso. His dark brown eyes shining, a smirk on his face.

Damn. He filled out a pair of jeans well.

A few patrons looked from him to her. The ones who recognized Grix, either from previous dealings or reputation, settled their tabs and left quietly with what could be interrupted as a nod of respect. Out of the corner of her eye, Tabiya saw Khadijah shake her head with a wry smile on her face and usher the remaining customers out.

"We're closed. Everybody out." she spoke, head bent, concentrating on wiping down the countertop. But her voice rang out clear, loud with each word enunciated.

"What are you doing here?" She tossed the rag on the bar, leaning back against the mirror, arms crossed.

"Just remembering when we broke that. And how." He motioned towards the glass with his chin. "Wanna go for it again?"

"I don't need another seven years of bad luck."

Grix laughed. "With all your potions and spells, I'm sure you can counteract it." He slid onto a bar stool.

Tabiya passed him a beer. Khadijah pointed towards the back room where the office and storeroom were.

"Thanks." Tabiya mouthed before Khadijah walked away. She was grateful for Khadijah's understanding and willingness to put up with the whims of her and Grix's relationship.

"Besides, you know I don't believe in bad luck." He looked around the room. "Nice decorations." He smiled, "I particularly like the Santa wolf on the top of your tree."

"You don't believe in much from what I recall."

He shrugged, took a long draw from the bottle. "The road. The pack." He paused, taking another drink. "You." He stared into her eyes. "Us."

"There is no us." Tabiya leaned forward.

"There will always be an us, Tabby." He finished the cold drink and sighed.

"This isn't the right place or the right time if you came looking to get into some trouble, Grix." She came around the bar to be closer to him. Her hand rested on the bar top, inches from his hand. "We've got enough brewing."

"I'm not looking for trouble, babe." He traced the tattoo on her forearm. "This time I kinda walked right into it." He ran a hand over his face, "Look. It's late. I'm tired. And I don't have time to play games." He frowned, "And your extracurricular witchy assassin activities." He paused. His gaze locked on hers. "Have created a stir. There's..." he trailed off.

"Trouble." She finished for him.

He nodded.

Taking a breath, she straightened, pulled away. "Where are you staying?"

"With you." his face scrunched up at the question, his expression appeared to be a cross between amusement and confusion as if the answer should have been obvious.

And it was. But Tabiya didn't like making assumptions when it came to Grix. Whenever she tried to foresee his actions in terms of their relationship and future together, it backfired. He was a riddle to her. Sometimes she could read him, other times she couldn't. The only consistent thing was her ability to feel and connect to his energy.

"You're an alphahole. You know that." She growled.

"You're starting to give me a headache." He gave her a pointed look.

Folding her arms across her chest, she stared back at him, head tilted to the side. "You cut your hair." She caressed the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Got tired of chicks trying to play in my hair."

She grabbed his face, pulled him down into a deep kiss. Her kiss was rough, passionate, frantic. He pulled her up, closer to his body, deepening the kiss before withdrawing his tongue from her mouth.

"I didn't change the locks. You could have used your key."

He smirked, "You taste like chocolate and blueberries, Tabby." He snaked his hands around her waist, pulling her to him, so they were body-to-body, groin to groin. "I didn't want to risk shifting and killing any boytoys you had stashed at your place."

She purred. His grip tightened around her waist. "What kinda trouble are you in?" She ran her hands through his hair.

"Only the best kind."

Chapter 2

If he were being real with himself, Grix would admit he came back to town each Christmas for her and her alone. But this time was different.

She was a part of it. As always.

It didn't matter how far he traveled away from the city, his thoughts always drifted back to her, mostly at night when he was in some motel room alone in his bed. Or riding and missing the feeling of her arms wrapped around him.

Even in the shower and thinking about how she'd looked wet, pressed against the wall with him buried deep inside of her.

And part of him ached, but he'd pushed it down, buried himself in work as the Reserve Alpha of Teflon Wolf Pack. He traveled throughout the five states to ensure TWP's foothold remained strong. Or to act on behalf of the pack with their allies. He was the face of the pack, which kept the Alpha free to handle in-territory business.

He was more nomad than alpha. Detroit was his home base. But his heart belonged to Tabiya.

I just have to tell her that.

Grix resisted the urge to pull over and take her by the side of the road on his motorcycle.

Sex would be a welcome distraction, but he needed a clear head.

You know what you have to do.

Once they'd been a finely oiled machine, working in conjunction, handling the curves that life sent them down - together. But he'd left. Or more accurately, he'd pushed her way. The life he led wasn't meant for her. It was a hard life, and she deserved better. She deserved someone who wouldn't make her worry whether he would be coming home at night or not.

She was the white-picket-fence type, and he, the hard-living, fast riding, life-against-the-rules wolf.

At least I was.

But something had changed in the last year.

Him. There were too many things. One too many fights. One too many women who weren't her.

Grix pulled into Tabiya's driveway on the Witch Reserve. The two-story turquoise blue house with white and yellow trim and a wraparound porch. The back porch led into the woodlands.

The house was decked out for Christmas. A tree sat decorated in the front yard with twinkling white and gold lights, strands of cranberries hung on the branches.

Tabiya pulled off her helmet. "Ready to tell me what's really going on?" She reached out, her hand on the small of his back. "You're unsettled."

"I wish you wouldn't read me."

"I'm not. Your aura is all over the place." She got off the motorcycle.

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing." He turned off the engine and got off the bike,

"A bounty on your head is nothing?" She followed him up to th front door.

"I have one night to decide which way I am going to go with this. And I didn't want to ruin your Christmas."

He used his key, pushed the door open, and pulled her in behind him.

"And you didn't think your name coming across the hotlist wouldn't epically fuck my mood and the holidays." She flicked her fingers up and the lights came on a dim glow illuminating the room. And revealing another tree and more decorations.

"I just want one night without all this on my head."

Tabiya nodded. "You..."

"Shh." Grix up beside her, his finger on her lip.

She nipped at the digit.

"I haven't shifted in almost a year. Ever since the incident at the jamboree and the explosion.” She shuddered as if she were shaking away the recollection of that horrible night.

He closed his eyes against the memory of seeing her laying on the ground covered in blood, bruised, and broken. An unnecessary incident caused by drunken shifters on leave from the preternatural military force.

Grix had made sure they’d been punished. He’d stayed by her bed until she’d awaken and began to heal. But he’d been ordered away because of duty.

That’s when it started. Choosing between someone he loved and the pack.

"I don't think I will be able to hold it for long."

"I'll help you." He grabbed her hand, pulled her through the house until they got to the back porch. “You don’t have to be afraid with me.”

“I’m not.” She said softly.

With a circle of her fingers, they were transported to the woods, naked.

"Focus on me," Grix said, still holding her hand. "Focus. Breathe." He stroked her cheek. "Picture your wolf in your mind. That beautiful, elegant grey wolf. The sleek gray, brown, and white coat."

He smiled when a growl ripped from her chest, echoing through the forest. He returned the growl with a howl of his own. She shifted from human to animal, her tawny skin transferred to a dense fur that covered her entire body, her hands and feet became clawed paws.

Not wanting to be left out, Grix shifted quickly. He sniffed the air, his hunger, and senses heightened. He growled again, a ripple from deep in his chest.

On all fours, he led her down one of the trails, running past rabbits, deer, and other creatures that would have normally made for a fine meal. He felt Tabiya racing behind him.

When they reached the clearing, by the pond, they stopped, racing and started their dance.

He worked to keep himself in control. He hadn't mated with Tabiya in wolf form in years. And didn't want to scare her with his eagerness.

He stood back and watched as she roamed the area and circled the tiny lake. Grix waited for Tabiya to stretch out by the water before he slowly approached her. Laying down beside her, he nuzzled her neck.

Tabiya nipped back at him but didn't move for a moment until she got up and whipped her tail in his face, rushing away from him.

He took off after her, romping and playing until she collapsed again, spread out, her head resting on her front paws, her eyes bright as she looked at him. Grix sauntered over, nipping at her fur, and licking her face. He pressed his nose to hers.

She turned her face up to his, and he took that as a sign she was ready. Grix walked around, sniffing her. He licked at her genitals, tasting the familiar sign she was ready to mate.

More.

He couldn't tell if the thought came from him or her. He had realized their connection deepened every time they were together, intimately. But this time felt different for him.

There was more at stake. And she had allowed herself the freedom to shift with him. That didn't go unnoticed by him. It had been years since she'd shifted that he knew about.

He wanted to enjoy it and her. But the urge to mount her was overwhelming. He needed to be inside her.

Not just because he was horny, but because he needed the healing only being with her could provide.

She was his other half. Fully and truly.

Mounting her, he thrust himself up and into her, his hind legs braced against the ground, his forearms wrapped around her middle, his head pressed into her neck.

Hunching and quiet whimpering sounds filled the clearing. The sensation of her bucking against him, her fur rubbing against his underside was too much for Grix to bear.

He had missed this, missed her.

He tightened his grip around her waist and pushed himself into her fully. He humped in and out, plunging and driving deep until he spilled forward and collapsed against her.

Tabiya let out a half growl, half yawn as he released inside her.

They laid locked together, connected, unable and unwilling to separate. She bucked against him, crawling out from underneath him. She nudged him with her nose.

There were no words needed

Bodies close together, they walked back towards the house, nuzzling, and bumping into each other, still drunk from their lovemaking.

They shifted back to human form as they crossed the threshold of the forest into her backyard.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his gaze looking over her body.

"Yes." Her voice was weak. The hollowness of her gaze reflected her lack of energy.

Grix swooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house and into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed.

"Let me take care of you." His voice gruff. "For a change."

She laughed. "You always take care of me."

"No, I don't." He shook his head, "And it's sweet to say that I do but you know that I am lacking in a lot of areas." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, "Let me make it up to you."

She reached up, ran her thumb along his jawline and the stubble. "I'm not looking for a tit for tat relationship Grix. No rules. No holds. No worries."

"But I always worry about you." he admitted, "I can't help it." He paused, "You worry about the people you love and care about."

"Does all this lovey-dovey-ness have anything to do with what's going on?"

He shook his head, "No. I have a different perspective now." He acknowledged, "I love you. It's Christmas." he shrugged. "Let's just leave it at that."

She nodded, staring into his eyes. "I do love you, Granger."

"But..." He watched as she got settled in the bed.

"Is this it? Is this all we are?" She sat up. Her arms wrapped around her knees. "Random booty calls and holiday sexcapades."

"No." His voice deepened. "But there are some complications." He crawled into bed next to her, kissed her forehead, and pulled her into his arms, "I'll explain in the morning."

Laying there, his mind raced.

What if she said no?

Chapter 3

Tabiya woke up the next morning to the smell of steak, potatoes, and eggs cooking. She stretched in bed, before getting up and pulling on her robe, and padding to the kitchen.

She stopped short in the doorway when she saw her brother, Khaleesi, and Grix talking in the nook by the back door.

"Am I interrupting?" she stepped fully into the room. "Khale" she nodded towards her brother.

"Tabiya." Grix came over to her, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Tab." he gave her a one-armed hug.

"What's so important that the second for Nolan Callahan is here?" She fixed herself a cup of coffee. "Or is this a pleasure visit dear brother?" She frowned, "Are you finally going to accept my invitation to Christmas dinner?"

"I knew this was a bad idea," Khale growled.

"Tabby." Grix said. "Khaleesi is here on business."

"I see." she took a long drink from her mug. "I take it this has something to do with the bounty on his head."

"Yes." Khaleesi took a seat at the table. "You bought the marker. Why? "

"Of course, I did." Her face scrunched up, her tone incredulous, "Why would I leave that out there?"

"Cause you weren't supposed to be involved?" Grix said sitting down across from Khaleesi.

"The only person who gets to kill you for all your misdeeds is me." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "If it involves you, it involves me. That's how we work. It's what we do. And because we're supposed to be partners, mates, I had no choice." She reminded him, taking the seat between the two of them. "What do we have to do to fix it?"

"That's why I'm here." Khale turned to look at his sister.

She looked from one man to the other.

"I can make this all go away, if, when Granger is installed at Alpha, he allows the Teflon Wolves to join forces with the organization."

"The pack won't go for that." Tabiya shook her head. "Join forces with a vampire?"

"Tell her the other option." Khale's voice was firm.

"I would have to go underground. Disappear." Grix paused, "Leave everything behind and become a part of the Paranormal Witness Protection Program."

"What about us?" Her chair slid as she stood, wobbled, and fell back onto the floor.

"If I take the protection deal, I want you to come with me." He got up and went over to her, "We could start over in a new place, new identities, and just live our lives the way we wanted."

"We already do that now." She pointed out.

"To a degree. But no pack politics, no hierarchy, or rules. We could be free." Grix said.

"It seems like you've thought about this a lot." She walked over to the sink, staring out at the backyard. Tabiya felt Grix come up behind her.

Khale cleared his throat, "I'll be back tomorrow for Christmas dinner." He stood, going over to the back door. "Think about it. It's a good deal for all around." The screen door slammed slightly as he left.

She turned so she was facing Grix. "Talk to me."

He nodded. "Talon thinks I killed his reserve alpha." he paused, "I didn't."

"Do you know who did?" She ducked under his arm and moved away from him going into the living room. Tabiya sat in her sage green comfy chair by the fireplace, legs tucked under her.

"No. I have suspicions. But nothing concrete." He sat in front of her, perched on the mahogany coffee table.

"Then why the hit?"

"Cause I'm a hothead." He sighed. "He confronted me. I had just heard about my uncle. And I lost my shit on him. Threatened him. Bested him." He shrugged. "He didn't like that." He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "He couldn't have a wolf besting a bear. Plus..." he stood and went over to the mantle. Pictures of them over the holidays were intermixed with pictures of her family and coven.

"You have to talk to me." Tabiya shifted in her chair. "I..."

"He made mumblings about dead witches and hybrids. " His voice was low and gruff. "I could only take it as one thing. A threat against you. So, I tried to kill him."

Chapter 4

When Grix turned, his eyes were red, and a thin sheen of fur was visible over his skin.

He blew out a breath in an attempt to calm down.

"I had no choice." He spoke in a low, calm tone. "I had to go after him."

"How did Khale find out?"

"Grapevine and rumor mill." He ran a hand over his face. "And I contacted him. I needed him to put guards on you. Until I could get here. In case of retaliation."

"And why the deal with witness protection?"

Grix moved from the fireboard over to the sofa, his body angled towards her as he sat down.

"From my roaming, negotiations, and different transactions, I've picked up a few things."

"And now you have two sides vying for that information."

He leaned back against the couch cushions with a growl, "Something like that."

Tabiya moved from the chair to sit next to him. She nestled in beside him.

"What do you want to do about it?"

"We." he corrected, turning his head to look at her. "We are doing this. That's one of the reasons I came back. I don't want to make this decision without you."

"Why now?" she pursed her lips.

"Being gone, the threat against you, the hit against me, Things got clearer."

"What things?" She shifted in her seat, pulling her legs under her. "I really hate how you talk around stuff."

"My feelings for you. How much I miss you?" He sat up straight, "What do you want me to say?" His eyes darkened, "That last time I was with someone who wasn't you, I barely came. And I know that's probably the worst thing I could say right now. But we've never kept any secrets from each other." He released a breath. "You have your dalliances and I have mine."

"We don't have an exclusive relationship, Grix." Tabiya looked away from him.

"You want the truth." He got up, pacing in front of the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights. "You are the reason I look forward to Christmas each year. I can't be with another woman or wolf because I am in love with you. They touch me and my skin crawls. And I hate it. I'm a fucking alpha wolf for fuck's sake and I'm reduced to a sniveling gamma." Grix stopped mid stroll, turning to face where she was sitting. His voice was calm, tone even when he spoke again. "But the thought of living without you, living without you on this Earth, scared the ever-loving fuck out of me."

"What are you going to do about it?" She shifted again, raising up on her knees. Her face turned to him.

"Marry me." He stared down at her.

Tabiya fell back onto the cushions as if she'd been pushed. "That's... that's..." She closed her eyes, head bent as if she were praying. When she opened her eyes and raised her gaze to look at him, "Fear should not be motivation for a proposal." She paused, "I love you, Granger. I am in love with you. But I will not marry you because you're afraid."

"I'm not asking because I'm afraid. I have been carrying this ring." He went to his duffel bag and pulled out a ring box, "This ring with me for over a year." He knelt down next to the sofa, "I wanted to ask you last year, but I was scared, and then we got into that fight." He sighed, "You are my one, my other half. And yeah, it doesn't make sense, but it doesn't have to. At least to anyone else but us."

Tabiya pressed one hand to her chest, fingers splayed out. The other hand covered her mouth, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Grix grabbed both her hands in his, "I want to marry you because I can't see my life without you. I don't want to live without you in my life, in my world, in my heart. I am a lot of things. Some good. Most of it bad. But the good parts, they come from you." He slid up onto the ottoman, "I want to make you my life because my life doesn't make sense without you. And I," he shook his head, "No. We. We have a decision to make. But I don't want to make that until I get your answer."

"And..."

"Shh." He pressed a finger to her lips. "I, Granger Stone, would love if you, Tabiya Estelle Youngblood, would give me the greatest honor of becoming my wife, my partner, my love."

"Grix would you shut up, so I can say yes."'

He smiled, made a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

"Yes. Grix. My sweet love. Yes, I will marry you."

His smile widened and she laughed.

"Is this really happening? Did that really happen?" She asked staring at the ring he'd slipped onto her finger. In a blink, she pounced, causing him to fall flat on his back.

"I love your smile. Not that fake one you give customers or the one when you are humoring some idiot."

"Have I ever told you that you talk too much?"

He frowned. "Never."

"Granger. Shut up and make love to me."

"Your wish is my command dear heart."

Chapter 5

"Are you okay?" Grix stared with a weird look on his face that Tabiya couldn't quite place. He'd stopped just short of her bedroom door.

"Yes." She reached up and stroked the scruff of his beard. "Yes. I'm fine."

Grix gaze searched hers. He took two big steps through the door and to the bed before laying her down gently. "You're a horrible liar Tabby."

"I ..." Tabiya bolted upright, her face flush, her tone came out flustered. "I keep thinking about the decision, you have to make."

He sat down on the bed next to her. "I want it to be our decision."

"I think you already know what you want to do but you just want to see if I agree. It's not up to me..." She paused, "I didn't mean to put a damper on things."

"No." He shook his head. "If we need to talk first, then let's talk." He moved to the top of the bed, leaning against the headboard. "I want your full attention when we make love. Can't have the future coming between us."

"Detroit is my home. I don't wat to leave." She twisted the newly acquired bauble on her ring finger.

He nodded, head tilted to the side, looking away from her. Grix raked his hand through his hair. "Going with the deal from the PWP would mean we're giving up everything." He finally turned and looked at her. "It's..."

"Complicated." She finished his sentence. "I get the appeal. But my instincts are screaming that this is a bad idea. I don't want it to look like we're running away."

"I've thought of that." He grabbed her hand. "And part of me really wants to stick it to Talon. He thinks of himself as the big bad grizzly bear. It's time he was brought back to reality."

"Are you ready for the war this is going to start?" She asked.

"Yes." His tone was firm, his jaw set in a hard line. "I know what it's going to cost." He squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I talked with the pack. They want to go with Christoph. They'll back me. Most are tired of how things have been and are ready for a change." He scratched his cheek, "As Alpha, there is only two ways to go. Either with me or against me."

"It's not going to be easy." She shifted on the bed.

"No, it's not. " He ran a hand over his face. "I'm not expecting it to be."

Tabiya picked up on the small thread of audible stress in his voice. At that moment, she was grateful, she knew him as well as she did.

"Then why even entertain the witness thing." Her voice was calm and tone even.

"Because if you wanted to, I would. I could have done it if you were with me." He rubbed the back of his neck, "You don't like pack life"

"You shouldn't do that." She sighed.

He frowned. "Do what?"

"Stake your life on mine. Don't make this about me."

"Why?" He pulled her onto his lap, holding her face in his hands. "Don't you realize how much I love you? How much you mean to me? How much you are a part of me?" He pushed a stray loc behind her ear. "You are a part of everything I do." He kissed her gently on the lips. "You don't have to be strong." He lowered his voice. "You are not the only one who gets vibes. I know you're scared."

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"Don't hide from me." He touched her cheek with his palm. "You keep saying we are in this together. That we have this bond, this connection. Let me show you how good we can be together."

"I said yes."

He smiled and his eyes lit up. "And I'm happy." His smile faltered. "But I want you to be sure. I don't want this to be an obligatory thing." He slowly exhaled, his next words came out slow and measured. "If you want to take it back..." He looked down at her hand and the ring he'd placed on her finger less than an hour ago. "I'll understand." He pulled her left hand to his lips, kissing her knuckle. "We can think of it as a promise ring, if you're not ready."

"I don't need a promise ring. And I'm not giving my ring back." She laughed. "I love you and I want to marry you, Granger," Tabiya said in a strong voice. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I don't." He kissed her, deep and long as he laid her back on the bed.

"You look beautiful." He dropped his hand to her shoulder. His gaze fixated on hers. His other hand, rested at her waist, virtually no room between them.

Tabiya knew that look in his eyes well. The glint of desire, glisten of heat in the dark depth of his irises. Her lips parted as she leaned up for another brief kiss.

Grix's breath tickled her ear. "I want to see you come." He whispered.

His words invading her soul, sending an electric pulse through her body, prickling her scalp, and making her pussy tingle.

"No." She breathed out causing him to stop. "I want you to fuck me. I don't want to wait to feel you inside me."

"As you wish." He said, his voice low and deep.

As much as she loved making love to him and laying beside him, her body craved him to be inside her. Being with him, in wolf form was one thing, but this, body to body, limb to limb was what she needed right now

Grix quickly stripped them both of their clothing. Once he'd had her bare, naked, and unashamed before him, he kissed her again. His tongue inserting in her mouth as his fingers reached between her leg.

His other hand grabbed her breast, nipping at one nipple then the other.

Tabiya touched his chest, his hard muscles pressed against her fingertips as she trailed her hand down the seemingly endless ridges and planes of his abs gliding to his cock and gripping it in her hand.

"Stop playing and fuck me." She breathed into his ear.

He rested his forehead against hers, gasping for breath as she fondled his dick, stroking and rubbing the head as best she could since she was pressed underneath him. She pushed her pelvis up, grinded against him.

Granger groaned. He pushed her into the bed, his legs spreading her legs further apart, one hand scooped under her ass, lifting her towards him, the other guiding himself inside her.

Taiya wrapped her legs around him, scratching at his shoulder.

Grix bent his head, kissing her as he waited for their bodies to adjust to each her. She felt him grow inside her as he deepened his claim on her mouth. His tongue darting in and out, teasing and exploring. He cupped her neck, angling her head to intensify the kiss.

The kiss was demanding and bruising. He alternated pounding strokes with slow grinds of his pelvis.

Tabiya broke the link of their lips, gasping for air.

He continued to thrust his cock inside her pussy. His thumb pressed hard against her clit.

A wolfish smile curled his lips when she growled.

"Granger." She moaned his name on an exhale of breath.

He nipped her nose. A flicker of emotion crossed his face causing the hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end.

"More." She said as she kissed him again.

"So tight." He ground his hips against her. "So fucking wet." He pushed his dick into her deeper. "So good." He breathed out, pistoning in and out fast and then slow.

"Yes.... This...." Her breath caught in her throat. "Grix."

She moaned.

Grix pulled his cock halfway out eliciting a growl in protest and scratches along his spine. She grabbed for his ass, trying to pull him back inside. But he remained still before plunging inside her once again. His balls, heavy and full, slapped against her thighs. The sound of their bodies in motion, writhing in passion, filled the room along with whimpers of pleasure.

He continued his movements. Retreat. Push forward. Withdraw. Plunge inside. Each time harder and deeper until the echoes of the squeaking bedsprings and pounding of the headboard against the wall reverberated through the house.

Tabiya's heart raced, blood pounding at her pulse. Ripples of pleasures washed over her body and she arched against him, holding onto his sweat-slicked shoulders, wrapping her arms and legs fully around him.

He fucked her quicker. Firm, steady thrusts.

"Grix... I'm...," she started, finding it hard to string sentences together.

"Come for me, Tabiya," his voice strong and commanding. He flicked her clit in a circular motion, his thumb moving at a maddening pace.

Her clit throbbed, her body contracted, then released. Tremors of her climax hit her full force, overloading her senses creating a tidal wave of pleasure showering her body.

Grix groaned, jerking backward and forwards a couple of times until he released himself inside her.

They laid connected until their breathing returned to normal. Grix moved off her but still lay so their bodies were touching.

"Merry Christmas baby." She kissed the side of his face.

"Merry Christmas, love."

Tabiya's mind raced with what this new adventure would bring for them both as a couple and as individuals. On one hand, it gave her an opportunity to reconnect with her brother. On the other, it would bring chaos, disorder, or misfortune to their doorsteps and lives.

She held up her hand and stared at the brilliant diamond and sapphire ring adorning her finger and couldn't help her smile.

Whatever happened. It was sure to be one hell of a ride.

They would stay and fight. But she had a feeling they would be fighting for more than just their lives. They would be fighting for their love too.

Merry Christmas Detroit. Enjoy it. Because all hell is about to break loose.

The End

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Alyssa Daring writes twisty, dark contemporary, urban fantasy and paranormal romance stories. She loves a good dare (as long as it’s not life threatening) and is known to be a risk taker. A roller coaster enthusiast – she tries to bring that thrill to her writing by taking her characters on daring journeys towards happily ever after’s. She spends her non-writing time cooking (she’s a chef by day), collecting African American dolls and figurines and binge-watching crime dramas, musicals, and reality tv.

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A Break from the Blood: A Pink Rhinestone Tiara Christmas Story

The Pink Rhinestone Tiara Series

DJ Shaw

About A Break from the Blood: A Pink Rhinestone Tiara Christmas Story

It’s Catriogwyn’s first Christmas with Demetrio, and she’s celebrating. She hasn’t been in the holiday spirit in two hundred fourteen years. Will she be able to let all the stress and grief go long enough to truly appreciate what Christmas is really about?

Chapter 1

Catriogwyn Stacey watched as Demetrio Pirozzi hung up the Christmas lights along the eaves of the house she had inherited from her Great-Great-Niece Prudence, which had just recently been renovated. It was the first Christmas in two hundred fourteen years where she had refused to work. She had chosen to spend it with someone other than co-workers, and the criminals she chased, and she was actually trying to celebrate. Of course, she was only doing all of this for her Genie.

Being a Vampire/Succubus Hybrid had its perks, such as being immortal, superhuman strength and amazing sexual stamina, but when it came to matters of the heart, she had to admit that she was out of her element. Cat had never truly given her heart to someone before. But now that she had decided to settle in Wilshire, Maine with Dem, she had decided to do some research into her species. Everything Cat had found so far said that there weren’t many hybrids of any species to experiment on. Part of her was elated to discover that news, but the more logical part of her was starting to get frustrated. While Cat thought that she was an immortal being, she had been getting conflicting information where a lifespan was concerned. According to that research, Succubi were immortal but Vampires could be killed. Cat often wondered if her Succubus side would outweigh her Vampire side if it ever came down to someone Hell-bent on killing her. Not enough to test the theory though.

But she had to admit to herself that living so long also had its limitations. For example, having to move every five to ten years to be sure that people never get suspicious. Or not being able to have a real conversation with anyone about what she really was. And how about watching anyone she chose to get close to die and not being able to do anything about it? That last one was the worst., the one she hated the most. So, to say that Cat was hardly ever in the Christmas spirit would be an understatement.

“How do they look from down there?” Dem’s voice brought Cat out of her gloomy thoughts making her return her attention to the Christmas planning that was taking place.

Looking up at the Genie standing on his ladder, she looked at the lights he had recently hung, “They look amazing, Dem! But don’t you think we might be overdoing it a bit?”

Demetrio slowly made his way down the ladder, “There is no such thing as overdoing Christmas, Cat. Listen, I know you’re new to this whole celebrating a holiday thing, but why don’t you just sit back and let the master do his work?”

Catriogwyn gave him a smirk, “When did you become such a smartass? I remember when you were more comfortable in your tiara than out in the world.”

He returned her smirk with one of his own and gave her a knowing look, “It’s not that I preferred to be in my tiara as opposed to being in the world, it was more Prudence didn’t want to have to explain why a young man was living with her in this big house. You know how small minded people can be.”

She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, “Touché, darling. But it’s okay for the town to think what they may of me, is that it?”

Dem chuckled, “No, of course not, beautiful. It’s just you don’t really care what these people think of you because you haven’t lived here your entire life. Now, let’s plug these babies in and see how they look all lit up.”

The hybrid watched her companion walk into the home they shared and waited to see the splendor that was supposed to be the lights.

After five minutes of waiting, she walked up the porch steps, “Can’t find an outlet?”

“What? They’re not on?” Dem replied in exasperation.

Cat stepped off the porch and looked back up at the lights, “Um, nope. Not so much as a flicker. What are you doing?”

“Damn it! These lights do this every fucking year,” Dem’s mutters met Cat’s ears as she stepped onto the porch again.

She shook her head, I don’t think I will ever understand what the big deal is with decorating the entire house, inside and out, for Christmas.

Instead of saying what she was thinking to her mate, however, she chose to ask, “Why don’t we just go to the store and buy some new lights? You can think of it as our first Christmas purchase together.”

Dem appeared on the porch in front of her, “Buy new lights? These lights work perfectly fine. I just need to tweak them a little bit. If you give me a few more minutes I’ll have those flickering pretty patterns for you.”

Cat shook her head, “Babe, they’re not working. At all. And I’m not sure any amount of tweaking is going to breathe life back into them. I think it’s time we retired these and bought some new ones. If you want me to take the celebration of this holiday seriously then maybe it should start with purchasing some new items. I mean, we were going to buy a tree anyway, weren’t we?”

The Genie tilted his head to the right, thinking over what his partner had just told him, “Ye-e-eah. But that’s different because you buy a new tree every year if you use a real one. If you don’t want the real deal then you can go to the store and buy a plastic one that you can reuse year after year. The lights are also supposed to be reusable but I guess you’re right about these. Prudence used them every year for as long as I can remember.”

Cat watched as Dem thought over what she had proposed they do for their first Christmas together, and saw it on his face when he had settled on a decision.

He gave her a wide smile, “Okay, let’s go get some new lights then. And while we’re doing that, we should get some more outside decorations, the tree that we were just discussing and the lights for it as well as some new ornaments. Although you might want to go through the ornaments that Prudence left up in the attic before we spend money on new ones. Some of the antiques are really gorgeous and would be at home on any tree.”

She returned his smile, “Well then what are we waiting for? Let’s go get our tree and some lights. We’ll wait on the ornaments until I have a chance to go through the ones Prudence left. And why, exactly, do we need more outdoor decorations?”

Dem gave her a wicked smile, “To make sure we win the decoration contest this year, silly. We need a lot of decorations to finish decorating the outside of the house as well as the yard.”

Cat stopped on the bottom step and turned to look at him, “What decoration contest?”

“The whole town drives through the neighborhoods voting on the best decorated house of the year and on Christmas Eve they all gather at the town square for the mayor’s yearly announcement and watch the trophy be passed on to the new winner for the year. It’s really quite something. Prudence has won the last two years. I want to make sure we stay on the winning streak and take that trophy home again this year,” he said over his shoulder as he took the porch steps two at a time on his way to the car.

She watched him walk to the car with her mouth slightly agape, “Why on Earth would humans drive around town looking at decorated houses and then vote on the one they feel is the better decorated? Not to mention the fact of gathering around waiting to hear the results from the mayor? Who only apparently comes out this time of year, I might add. It seems absurd.”

Dem opened the passenger side door and looked back to Cat, “You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you for waiting until the first to decorate the house. Prudence would start decorating right after Thanksgiving dinner, which always came with its own set of problems. Are you coming? I’d like to get the shopping done before the sun goes down. I really want to get the house decorated today.”

Giving him a dirty look, Cat made her way to the car, “Yes, yes. I’m coming. I’m the one with the money, remember? Let’s just get this over with.”

He smiled at her from across the top of the car, “Oh, don’t be such a Grinch, Cat. It’s going to be fun. I promise you.”

She rolled her eyes as she climbed into the car, not really sure how Dem figured shopping for anything was fun.

Chapter 2

Dem looked around the store, watching as people bustled to and fro, picking up this and that and pricing the items they wanted. He loved this time of year and hoped to get his honey in the Christmassy spirit. Her earlier jibe about being the one with money had irked him a bit but he couldn’t deny that she was the only one in their relationship working. It wasn’t that Dem didn’t want to work; he couldn’t. Technically he didn’t exist, didn’t have a social security card or birth certificate to prove he was who he said he was, so work was a bit hard for him to obtain. He wasn’t sure exactly how Cat was able to work and prove her existence in the world, but he’d never bothered to ask her either. Maybe after the holidays he would sit her down and talk with her about being able to obtain the documents he needed to be able to find a job. He really hated just sitting around the house when Cat was working.

Dem placed that thought in the back of his mind and started looking through the Christmas lights, “So what colors do you want?”

When he saw the confused look on Cat’s face he continued, “There are many different colors to choose from. You can have all blue, all green, all yellow, all white or multi-color. So, which would you prefer we use?”

Cat looked at the lights he was holding up and smiled, “I know what colors there are, Dem. Just because I haven’t celebrated the season doesn’t mean that I’m blind. I have seen decorated house and trees before, darling. My old job back in Chicago used to dress up the office in festive colors and the tree was smack dab in the middle of the office so it couldn’t be missed. As for the color for our house, I really prefer the blues and yellows but why don’t we get the multi-colored ones for the outside of the house and we can use the other colors in different rooms inside when we decorate that part of the house. You still planning on making the den the main focal point of decorations inside? Still want to set the tree up in there?”

Dem set the Christmas lights down and tapped his lip with his forefinger, “Why wouldn’t we set the tree up in the den and make that room the focal point when we entertain? It’s the biggest room in the house so it makes sense to me to use it for that purpose.”

She shook her head and picked up the lights he had just set down, turning them over in her hands so that she didn’t have to meet his gaze before placing them in the shopping cart, “I didn’t say we wouldn’t. I simply asked if that was still your plan. Remember that all of this; the decorating, the entertaining, the socializing, all of it is on you. I don’t have a clue on how to entertain for a potluck, much less a Christmas party and now you’re throwing me to the wolves by continuing a tradition started by my Great-Great-Niece some fifty years ago so please don’t expect me to tell you what needs to be done to set any of that up. I’ll cook and I’ll clean, Hell I’ll even bake if that’s what you’d like me to do, but when it comes to setting up the decorations and being all Christmassy and social, that’s on you, babe.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug, “Breathe, Cat. You’re going to be just fine. Everything will be just fine. You’re going to be a pro at hosting party events by the New Year’s Eve party. You’ll see.”

Dem let Cat go when she pulled away and picked up a few more sets of lights, placing them in the cart, “We’re going to need these lights too.”

Cat watched him put another three sets into the cart, “Um, why do we need so many lights? I know the house is big and all but there are more than enough strings to decorate the whole house at least twice over. Wait! What?! We’re hosting a New Year’s Eve party too?”

He laughed, “Some of these lights are outdoor lights. They make sets specifically for the outside, beautiful. As for the New Year’s Eve party, Prudence’s place was the go-to for all Christmas and New Year’s Eve festivities, so of course we’re hosting a party to ring in the New Year. Relax, Cat, things will go swimmingly, and you’ll find that being social isn’t so bad after all. I promise.”

She shook her head again, “Apparently there is still a lot for me to learn if I’m going to keep celebrating this holiday. Though I can’t promise that we’re going to be doing this next year.”

Dem pushed the cart into the next aisle, grabbing things off shelves in a seemingly random order, “It looks like I’m not going to be able to decorate today. There are just too many things we still need to get.”

Cat looked at the items that were starting to pile up in the cart, “Hey! I thought we were waiting to get ornaments until we went through the ones in the attic. You’re suggestion, if memory serves.”

He looked up, “Huh? Oh! We are we totally are. These aren’t for the tree in the house. They’re for the trees outside.”

“All of them?” Cat squeaked as they rounded the corner.

There had to be a few hundred ornaments in the cart that her Genie wanted to use for the trees in their yard. She was sure he was going to decorate all of the standing pines scattered throughout the front of the house.

Dem laughed again, “Oh, goodness, no! Just a few of them. But I’m going to dress up the biggest tress in the yard. Remember, I want us to continue the winning streak that Prudence started two years ago.”

She held up her hand, “Okay. Yeah, all right. All right. What else do we need?”

He cocked his head to the side, leaning against the cart while he thought, “Let’s see; lights, check. Ornaments for outside trees, check. We need to go to the yard decorations and see what they have to offer here and, if we like what we see, pick some of those up. And of course, we still need to get our tree so we can at least set that up today. We need to know what ornaments and lights we’ll be using on the tree before we can decorate the room it’s in. The tree is supposed to be the star of any Christmas party.”

Cat nodded, “Right. Yard decorations are this way. I think. Maybe we should ask someone?”

Dem shook his head, “Nope. I know exactly where they are, just follow me. Oh, and you might want to get another cart. I think we’re gonna need it.”

She watched as the Genie made his way to the other end of the store, shaking her head before going to get another cart, Two carts full of nothing but Christmas stuff, all just to decorate the house, inside and out. I honestly don’t know why he bothers when he has to take everything down in a month or so. But part of being in a relationship is compromise so color me compromising. Besides, I don’t really know the first thing about decorating for this time of year.

As she was reaching for the first cart she came to at the front of the store, her hand brushed someone else’s who grabbed at the same one, “Oh! Excuse me.”

A masculine laugh had her looking up to see who she hand encountered. The person in front of her made her smile.

“Well, hello, Ms. Stacey. How lovely to see you,” Mr. Kemp greeted her warmly.

Her smile widened as she grabbed the cart next to his, “Why hello there, Mr. Kemp. How have you been? Did you ever find out who sent me those escrow papers?”

He shook his head, his smile slipping a little, “No, not yet. It seems that whoever sent them had no intention of being found. We’re still looking into it of course, but so far nothing’s come up. Don't worry, we’ll find them, whoever they may be. So is it true?”

Cat gave him a questioning look with his quick change of subject, “Is what true?”

He gave her a soft smile, “The rumor that you’re going to continue with your Great-Aunt’s tradition of hosting the town’s Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties?”

She cringed inwardly. It was always a bit confusing to hear others refer to Prudence as her Great-Aunt instead of what she truly was. But if the truth came out and the town found out what she was and that she had lived for two hundred fourteen years, there would be a lynch mob at her home instead of partygoers.

Her smile faltered slightly when she thought about the amount of people who were expected to show up at her door for the parties in question, “Oh that. Yes, yes. The rumor is absolutely true. My other half and I decided that with all the space we have in Prudence’s house, and the new renovations that have been made, it would be best to continue her tradition on. The holidays are nothing if not for tradition, don’t you think, Mr. Kemp?”

Mr. Kemp nodded, “So very true, Ms. Stacey. I’m so happy to hear that you’re carrying on the tradition started by your Great-Aunt so many years ago. I can tell you that the town greatly appreciates it. Not to mention what a great opportunity this is for everybody to get to know you.”

Cat nodded her head, and they said their good-byes, each heading off in their own directions to finish up their shopping.

Chapter 3

Unloading the car, Cat couldn’t believe how much money they had spent just to decorate a house. She had decided on the way home from the store to let Dem worry about getting the tree of the top of the car and into the house. The hybrid had opted to carry the shopping bags filled with lights, ornaments, and yard decorations because there would be less questions than if she was carrying the tree into the house if a neighbor saw her. Just another flaw of being a supernatural being hiding in the human world.

She walked up the porch steps and set the bags down so she could unlock the front door. After placing all the bags she’d carried from the car into the foyer, she went back to the car to get the yard decorations.

“Coming through! I can’t see, Cat, so I really hope you’re outta the way,” Dem announced as he slowly came up the steps, the tree tossed over his shoulder, needles falling with each step he took.

Cat hid a smile as she watched him struggle with the awkward weight he was carrying, trying to keep it from falling as he came to a stop in front of the doorway, “Dem, be careful of the bags. You know what? Maybe you should let me go inside before you and move those before you trip over them and we have to replace everything we just bought. Just, just set the tree down here for a second.”

She helped Dem take the tree off his shoulder and lean it against the side of the house, “It’ll only take a second for me to move everything so you have a straight shot into the den to set that beauty up.”

He leaned against the house next to the tree and looked at Cat, taking the time to catch his breath, “You just put everything in the foyer, didn’t you? Geez, Cat, how many times do I have to ask you not to do that? It causes issues even when I don’t have to carry a tree into the house.”

Cat stuck her tongue out at Dem, “Just about every time I go to the store you tell me to carry the bags into the rooms they need to be in, whether it’s the kitchen or wherever. And every time I tell you that setting the bags in the foyer saves me some time if I have to go back to the car to get another load of supplies, food, or what have you. But I’m going in to move everything now, aren’t I?”

Dem gave her a sexy smile, “Okay, I’ll punish you for it later. Just holler at me when you’re done and I’ll head in with the tree.”

Cat smiled, “You know me so well, Dem. I’ll only be a minute.”

She disappeared into the house and started moving their purchases from the foyer into the den. She placed the bags on the furniture scattered around the room and the yard decorations behind and out of the way. She wasn’t entirely sure where the Genie wanted to put the tree; the two had never truly discussed it before they went to the store. She just knew it made sense to have all of the Christmas items in the room where the holiday was supposed to shine.

Satisfied that everything was out of the way and her mate wouldn’t be tripping over anything, Cat made her way back to the front porch, “You’re good to go, babe. You should be able to take the tree all the way into the den without incident. Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Dem waved her off, “I’ve got it, darling. Just direct me so I don’t hit any walls or trip over the furniture. This tree is a real beaut and I don’t want to have to replace it.”

She couldn’t believe how picky her companion had been when picking out the tree. He had told her that it had to be perfect and they would know which one that was when they saw it. When they came upon the one he was carrying, he had declared it the one and went off to get an associate to help them load it onto the car. Cat walked around the pine, trying to see what made it stand out from all the others on the lot but didn’t really see anything special about it.

“Cat! Am I clear?” Dem asked her impatiently, causing her to pay closer attention to the path he was taking into the den.

She cleared her throat, “Yes, Dem, you’re clear. Just keep going straight ahead. And where are you placing this behemoth once you get into the assigned room?”

He looked through the pine needles at her like she had grown a second head, “Where are we putting it? Why in the middle of the room, of course! Don’t you remember me telling you that the tree is the star attraction for the season? That the room should be decorated around the main exhibit? It’s kind of like buying a new outfit to wear but starting with the shoes. Don’t you always say you build your perfect outfit around the shoes?”

Cat laughed at the disbelieving look on his face, “Yes, that’s what I always say but I’ve never thought to apply that practice to decorating a room. I do remember our conversation about decorating but I wasn’t sure if you wanted the star attraction in the center of the room or if you were of the mind to place it in a corner like most people do.”

Dem set the tree down in the center of the room, “Why don’t you start baking those sugar cookies that we were talking about using for the little gift baskets for our guests?”

She walked over to the tree and her mate, “I wasn’t aware you were going to take me up on that baking offer. I had thought you were going to bake the goodies going into those baskets. You sure you want to leave all of that responsibility up to me?’

He nodded, shaking more pine needles onto the floor, “Yes, yes. You’ll be fine. You can find everything you need in the recipe box above the stove. Just follow the directions and everything should turn out perfect. Go through the recipes and make whatever you’d like. You never know, you might just get bit by the baking bug. You’re never going to find out if you like to bake if you don’t ever try. Besides, I’ll be your guinea pig and taste everything before even begin to put those baskets together. I promise.”

Cat cocked her head to the side and thought over what her mate was telling her, “I guess you’re right. But I’m not making any promises on how anything is going to turn out.”

As she headed out of the den and made her way to the kitchen, she heard Dem muttering under his breath, “Now where did I put that damn tree stand?”

Stepping into the bright, yellow kitchen she moved to the area of the room that always drew her whenever she entered, the sink and the window there.

Cat looked into the backyard, taking in the beautiful job that Dragons-Bane Landscaping had done two months prior. With all the work that had gone into taking care of what she could only have called a jungle when she first moved into the house she was very glad that the landscaping company was willing to come out once a month to keep up the work they had started. It looked even better with the light dusting of snow that was beginning to stick to the ground.

Taking a deep breath she turned to the stove, looking at the shiny appliance with a small amount of dread, It’s been so long since I’ve done any type of cooking that I’m worried nothing is going to turn out the way it’s supposed to. Even worse, that I will give someone food poisoning. But Dem has faith in me, so I suppose I should at least try to remember how things are done. Of course, the last time I baked there weren’t all of these fancy appliances and equipment to use.

She moved to the stove she had been admiring and reached into the cabinet above, pulling out what looked like a handcrafted wooden box with gorgeous markings and some intricate designs. Carefully opening the lid, she pulled out a stack of 3x5 index cards and flipped through them looking for the sugar cookie recipe Dem had told her Prudence had perfected and written down. There were a few recipes that looked vaguely familiar, as if they had been passed down through the generations, so she set them aside to make after she worked on the cookies she had been assigned to make for their party.

Chapter 4

Dem located the tree stand in the attic and decided to bring the box of ornaments down along with it. He knew he was going to need to put some water in that stand so the tree would stay vibrant and green. Dem also knew that he would have to check the water level every other day to keep it healthy for as long as possible. It would really suck if the water ran out and the tree died before the New Year’s Eve party.

The gingerbread wafting through the house caught the Genie’s attention as he stood back to admire the tree. The tall pine was standing straight in the stand, ready to be covered in lights and decorations.

He took a deep breath and looked around the den, trying to locate the decorations he and his better half had purchased; Smells like Cat went with the gingerbread men instead of the sugar cookies. I can’t wait to taste one because they smell amazing.

Finally locating the bags, he started to rummage through them for the blue and yellow lights Cat had chosen for their tree. Dem figured he would start with the blue and then move on to the yellow, alternating between the two colors as he dressed the tree in lights. Unraveling a string of blue, he looked at the tree once more, choosing to start stringing from the bottom. The gingerbread smell that was wafting through the house had his stomach growling, which was making it difficult for him to concentrate on the job at hand. He was a perfectionist at heart so when it came to decorating he would accept nothing less than perfection. Oh, he could use his Genie Magic and achieve the results he wanted, but he was trying to do things the old-fashioned human way.

Dem decided that since Cat was trying to celebrate the holiday, a holiday that she hadn’t celebrated since she was turned so many years ago, for him the least he could do was make sure things were as humanly perfect as possible.

“Hey, babe? I decided to try my hand at a gingerbread man recipe that looked familiar before working on the sugar cookies. You know, just kind of ease my way in? Want to take a break from setting up the tree and have a taste?” Cat asked as she walked into the den carrying a tray of cookies.

The Genie stopped stringing the yellow lights in the middle of the tree long enough to look over at his mate and smile, “Sure, darling. I’ll try one of your gingerbread men. Did you follow the directions, or did you put your own spin on these?”

Cat smiled as she offered her companion the tray, “I followed the directions as they were written. I figured I’d start out slow and see where it takes me since I haven’t baked in a long time. If celebrating holidays becomes a regular thing, then I might try to put my own spin on some of these recipes.”

The hybrid held one of the gingerbread men out to Dom, “Come on. Tell me how they turned out.”

Dem stood and made his way over to the hybrid, plucking a cookie off the tray when he came to a stop and taking a bite, “Mm mm. These are very tasty, darling. You added just the right amount of molasses to the mix. They’re not as overpowering as most gingerbread cookies can be.”

She set the tray on the end table next to the doorway and threw her arms around her mate excitedly, “I’m so glad to hear you say that they turned okay. I was pretty worried that I would end up giving our guests food poisoning. Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve done any type of cooking? A century at least.”

He pulled her body closer to his, “Then I have to say that you haven’t lost your touch. Listen, these lights are going to take a little time to put on the tree the way I’m envisioning them so, what do you say while I’m taking this little break we head upstairs and celebrate your gingerbread turning out tasty and I give you that punishment you deserve?”

Cat giggled and moved away from him, “I say I’ll meet you there. Try not to take too long though, tiger.”

She gave him a wink, turned on her heel and, still giggling, headed up the stairs to their bedroom.

The next morning found Cat back in the kitchen working on some peppermint mocha cupcakes. She was feeling stronger in her ability to bake and she wanted to add a few more goodies to the gift baskets they were making for their neighbors and friends. She’d found a cinnamon frosting recipe she was itching to try, and the only thing festive enough for the season that would complement the flavor was either peppermint mocha or vanilla peppermint cupcakes. She was really excited to put them together. She still had about a week before their scheduled party to perfect all of the recipes she wanted to add to those baskets.

Dem came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body as close as he could to his and placing a kiss on the top of her head, “Morning, beautiful.”

Cat leaned back into him, relaxing as she did, “Morning, handsome. What time did you come back to bed last night?”

He reached over her, sticking his finger in the batter she’d just made, “Yum! Hmm I think it was about twelve-thirty, give or take. Have you been in the den yet?”

She swatted his hand away from the batter as he tried to dip his finger in the bowl again, “Not yet. I woke up with this need to bake some cupcakes. I decided that the only way I was going to get any better at baking was to practice. So here I am.”

Dem let her go, moving to stand beside her, “Well, hurry up with that batter, get those cupcakes in the oven and meet me in the there. I have a surprise for you.”

He knew that his hybrid didn’t really do surprises, but he was willing to keep trying until she at least accepted them as a part of life. Cat never told him why she didn’t like surprises, only that nothing good ever came of them. The Genie was more than determined to prove to her that not all surprises were bad. He had decided to go slow, with little surprises, but with Christmas fast approaching he knew the gift he’d chosen was perfect. Dem gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed her to go to the room in question.

She watched as he made his way out the door, thinking how cute her Genie was when he was trying to mysterious. And she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was beginning to get into the Christmassy spirit. Cat placed the electric mixer back into the bowl to make sure that the batter hadn’t gotten lumpy with her taking a break to talk with Dem.

He still had a lot of decorating to do, but at least he had finished the tree and the room it was in. Dem was extremely happy with the way the pine looked with the alternating blues and yellows. He couldn’t wait to see Cat’s face when she saw that room. After she had fallen asleep the night before, Dem had snuck back downstairs to finish up the tree. After he’d finished that, he discovered that he wasn’t really tired, and that he might be a bit obsessive/compulsive when it came to unfinished projects, so he decided to finish decorating the whole room.

“All right, babe, cupcakes are in the oven. Keep your fingers crossed that they turn out as well as the gingerbread men did. Now what was it…” Cat trailed off as she stepped into the den and saw all of the decorations and lights.

The room looked amazing in all the blues and yellows she had picked out the day before, but what drew her eye was the tree. It showed that Dem had worked very hard on making the tree look spectacular. He certainly had taken no chances in making sure that the pine was the main attraction in the decorated room.

She turned around slowly, taking everything in, “This is amazing, Dem. Did you do all of this last night?”

Dem nodded, moving to place his arms around her waist while he stood behind her, “That I did. Originally, I had come down just to finish getting the lights on the tree, but discovered that there was no way I was going to able to get to sleep if I didn’t finish the decorating of the whole room. So that’s what I did.”

Cat laughed, “OCD much? Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did it. This room and that tree are truly beautiful. How long did it take you? Or did you get some supernatural help?”

His tone of voice when he answered let her know that what she had suggested offended him, “I’ll have you know, darling, that all of this was done the good old-fashioned human way. Not one speck of Genie Magic was used for any of this decorating.”

She turned in his arms and gave him a deep kiss, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or suggest otherwise. I was just curious because you know you could have had the whole house decorated by now. Inside and out.”

Dem pulled her in for another kiss, “I’ll forgive you this time. And I know I could, but I wanted to do this the human way. If we’re going to live like the humans we might as well work the way they do. Do you use your supernatural abilities to capture your criminals?”

Cat shook her head, “Not unless I absolutely have to. You have to remember that most of the criminals I chase are much larger than me so there have been times I have actually used my abilities, but I try really hard not to resort to that. Now, let me help soothe your feelings. Come back into the kitchen. It’s my turn to surprise you.”

He raised an eyebrow as she pulled out of his arms, “You have a surprise for me? In the kitchen, you say? This I gotta see.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before she disappeared around the corner, presumably on her way to the kitchen.

Cat was setting plates on the kitchen table when Dem entered, “Took you long enough. What are you afraid of?”

Dem looked at the plates on the table and had a seat, noting there were scrambled eggs and toast, and what looked like bacon, “You, actually. You don’t do surprises, remember? Is that bacon?”

She smiled and had a seat on his lap, “Well maybe you’ve brought out the best in me the last year we’ve been together. I’ve begun to do things I’d lost the desire to even try before since I’ve been with you. I’m beginning to think that Prudence had more than one reason for giving me your tiara.”

Chapter 5

Cat spread the cinnamon frosting on the peppermint mocha cupcake, happy that another one of her creations turned out so well. She’d had a hard time getting the cupcake pan away from Dem when he’d tasted the one treat she’d put in front of him.

“These can’t be used for the gift baskets or even the guests. They’re mine. All mine and no one else can have them,” he had shouted as she chased him through the house. She’d had to promise to make him his own dozen cupcakes and some more gingerbread cookies before he handed her the pan. Frosting the last cupcake, Cat smiled at the recent memory of her Genie running through the house cradling the pan in his arms and laughing like a madman. It was one of the many reasons the two of them fit so well together.

“Cat! What are you doing?” Dem’s voice brought her back to the task at hand and she saw that she had over-frosted the poor cupcake in her hand.

Scrapping off the excess frosting Cat called back as she smoothed out the top of the spongy treat, “Just finishing up with the cupcakes. I already started the sugar cookies. I hope all of our guests like eggnog because that’s what the cookies have in them.”

He came into the room with a smile, “I thought I smelled eggnog. Was wondering if you had decided to make your own instead of going to the store to buy some, but I can see that you snuck some in the cart last week without my noticing. Huh, I wonder how you were able to get away with that since I’m usually more aware of my surroundings. Oh! You’ve added frosting to the yumminess of the cupcakes. And speaking of these cupcakes, our guests are gonna love them, darling. I can guarantee you that.”

She smacked his hand as he reached for a frosted sponge treat, “These are for the guests, Dem. What time does the party start again?”

Dem moved to the stove and pulled open the oven door, inhaling deeply as he answered, “Six o’clock. But people probably won’t start showing until around six-fifteen or so. You know how humans like to be fashionably late. Got time to come outside and see what I’ve done with the yard?”

Cat stood from the table and followed her mate onto the front porch. What she saw made her pause. The Genie had been busy out in the yard while she had been working in the kitchen. He had decorated the three larger trees in the yard with the ornaments they had bought the week before. He’d hung the multi-colored lights on the eaves of the house as well as around those large trees giving the feel of a winter wonderland in front of their house.

The snow that was falling added to the feel of Christmas, and Cat couldn’t stop herself from stepping off the front porch to walk in the glistening white, loving the fact that she was leaving footprints from the porch to the largest tree in the middle of the yard, “This is gorgeous, babe. You sure are handy to have around the house.”

He had followed her into the yard, watching her dance among the snowflakes with a smile on his face, “I’m glad you like it, darling. After I saw your reaction to the way I decorated the den last week, I decided that I just wanted to make you happy this season. If we win the contest, then that’ll just be icing.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in for a kiss, “I’d say you hit the mark on making me happy, in all things this year. What do you say we go inside and take a look at those antique decorations while we wait for the cookies to finish? That way we can add some decorations to the tree to go alongside those beautiful lights and the decorated den.”

The Genie’s response was cut off by the sound of a car door closing. The two looked at the drive and watched shadowy figure approach them.

“Greetings and salutations, Catriogwyn,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the figure slowly approached the light of the yard.

Cat gasped when Lukas Spilka, her maker, stepped out of the shadows, “What are you doing here?”

He chuckled, the sound taking her mind back to the night he had made her a Vampire. The night she had found out that she was half Succubus because her father, Miroslav, had been an Incubus demon who had chosen to live his life among humans until he had gotten caught by the Hell Guardians.

He turned his gaze from Cat to Dem standing behind her, a smile fixed on his face and hand held out, “And who is this young man? Hi, I’m Lukas Spilka. I’m like a father of sorts to Catriogwyn.”

Dem stepped forward, coming between the hybrid and their visitor, “Demetrio Pirozzi, Cat’s better half. How can we help you this fine evening, sir?”

Lukas let out a loud laugh, showing his fangs, “So protective. Oh, and he has manners too, calling me sir. You couldn’t have done better for yourself, my dear.”

Cat moved to stand beside her mate, “Yes, I like to think that I have. Now how about you tell us exactly what you’re doing here?”

The Vampire let his outstretched hand fall and stepped a little closer to the pair, “Did you think I would let you celebrate the season without me, little one? Christmas is all about family, after all, and I’m closest thing you have left. I’ve been searching for you for a very long time, Catriogwyn.”

The Genie met Lukas before the Vampire could reach his mate, “I think it’s time for you to leave, Lukas. We are expecting some friends to help us celebrate this joyous season and neither of us wants any trouble. And from what I have sensed of you, that might be just what you’re looking for. Neither Cat nor I are going to allow you to harm any of the humans in this town.”

Cat gripped Dem’s arm, trying to keep him from doing anything stupid, “Dem is right, Lukas. You need to leave. As for your family quip, I have family here and you’re not it. I have my mate and the people in this town treat me like one of their own. I don’t need you ruining that. There is a reason I left your side a hundred years ago. You just couldn’t seem to help yourself from killing too much and too often. How many times did you come close to getting found out?”

The Vampire stepped back, looking like the hybrid had punched him in the gut, “But I’m your family, Catriogwyn. I made you two hundred fourteen years ago. I’ve always been there for you. Where is your father, little one? Has he even looked you up since he left Hell again and found out that I turned you into the hybrid you are now?”

He laughed when he saw the hurt look on her face when his words sunk in, “That’s right, precious. Your father has been roaming topside, free of the Guardians, for the last fifty years, give or take a year. I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that either he hasn’t found you, which I find rather hard to believe since you’ve been in Chicago for ten years and now here in Wilshire for the last year, or he just hasn’t bothered to try. If you want my guess, I’d say it’s the latter. Poor, poor, orphan Catriogwyn. No human family left alive and the one supernatural being doesn’t even care enough to look for his only living daughter. Though that might have a little something to do with the fact that I turned you into one of my kind two centuries ago.”

The smoke alarm screaming from the kitchen reached their ears and Cat gasped once again, “My cookies! Oh no! No, no, no, no. They’re going to be ruined.”

She rushed across the yard and hurried into the house, no longer caring if Lukas continued to try and weasel his way into her home or not. She needed to throw out the burnt cookies and start a new batch quickly. Their time was running out before their guests started showing for her first ever hosted Christmas party.

“Oh, the house looks lovely, Demetrio was it?” Lukas said as he entered the foyer.

“Who invited you in?” Dem growled as he spun around.

The Genie wasn’t impressed with their visitor much, and he could tell that his better half wanted nothing to do with the Vampire, so he was trying to make him leave before the townspeople started showing up to party.

Lukas leaned in close to Dem, “I don’t need an invitation to enter a home that houses dead people. Yes, I know that neither of you are living but what I don’t know is what exactly you are. So, tell me, Demetrio, what type of supernatural are you?”

Dem cleared his throat and listened to Cat muttering in the kitchen about her burnt cookies before answering, “You can’t tell what I am, Lukas? I honestly thought you were better at guessing games than this. But I’ll ease your suffering and tell you; I’m a magical type of supernatural, made up mostly of energy. A Genie.”

The Vampire stepped back in surprise, “A Genie?! How is that possible? All of the Genies were snuffed out eons ago. How are you standing here before me?”

The Genie gave Lukas a smug smile, “My mother was smart and hid me in something other than a lamp. I lived there until about fifty years ago when Prudence Stacey bought my home at a garage sale by chance. From there she held on to me, and my Genie home, until a time she saw as fit to pass me on to Cat. And that time was last year when she died.”

Lukas sniffed the air in front of Dem, “Yes, yes. I can smell the energy now. How did I miss it before? Oh, Catriogwyn? Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and celebrate a holiday meant for family? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

Cat stepped out of the kitchen, holding a crossbow with a stake sitting in the slot, “I’m positive that you’re not welcome here, Lukas. Leave now and I’ll spare your life. And just so you know, this little baby is never very far from me so don’t even think about coming back. Ever. You’re not my family and you never will be. As for the little story you told me of my father, I’ve known for the last forty-nine years that he’s been topside. I’ve been keeping tabs on him ever since, so if I ever wanted to see him, I could make the effort. I don’t need my father, Lukas, any more than I need you. Haven’t for over a century. Prudence knew that I needed and made sure that I received it when she died.”

She had moved next to Dem and in front of the Vampire while she had been talking, her hand completely steady as she pointed the crossbow at the uninvited guest. She put her left arm around her mate and leaned in for a side hug, taking in the strength and moral support he offered in his touch.

Dem squeezed her tight and turned to look at the Vampire, “You heard the lady. Now would be a good time to make your exit.”

Lukas stepped out onto the porch and walked down the steps, looking over his shoulder, “This isn’t over, Catriogwyn. Not by a long shot. You owe me, girlie, and you owe me big. I will collect what I’m due.”

The Genie felt the shudder that racked the hybrid’s body as they watched the unwelcome visitor get into his car and drive away, “What was that all about, Cat?”

Cat shook her head, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain it all after the party. Let’s get the tree decorated before everyone starts to show up.”

The two turned together and made their way into the house they had made into their home, looking forward to the party that would start in a few short hours.