Happy Holidays! I can't believe it's that time of year again. They say time flies as you get older. I found that especially true this year. It's been a challenging year. Full of ups and downs, heartache and great joy. But that's life right? Those of you following me on FaceBook know that my family suffered a great loss with the passing of my nana and I made the difficult decision to postpone Ill Fated. Words couldn't seem to find their way to the page, the creative flow with damned up with stress and grief. I was in a funk. But as the new year approaches I see myself coming through, the light at the end of the tunnel. In a writing exercise to lure the muse back into my writing cave I decided to write a little holiday short- with the intention of sharing it with all of you. I think it turned out alright. ;)
So here it is.... Mistletoe Meltdown. A little gift of thanks- for reading, and well, just being there. Your support this year has meant more to me than you'll know. I am blessed and so thankful to have such wonderful friends and readers like all of you! xo
**This short contains spoilers for those who have not read Blood Bath, book 4.**
"Chestnuts roasting
on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Yuletide carols being sung by
a choir and folks dressed up like Eskimos." Nat
King Cole's smooth voice blared from the outdoor speakers hidden in the
greenery that turned the walking mall into a winter wonderland, soothing the
savage holiday shopping beasts surrounding me. I tried not to overanalyze the
lyrics but I'd met the Hoar Frost King once and he'd do a lot more than nip at
your nose.
Besides, did anyone really have a Christmas like the ones
people sang about?
The Kincaides, my adoptive family, practiced every holiday
tradition from Midnight Mass to the extravagant family dinner to a house staged
similar to something from a Martha
Stewart Living magazine. It didn't change anything. The tinsel and
twinkling lights only highlighted the hatred.
So imagine my enthusiasm when my real father Arawn suggested
we have a Christmas/Solstice dinner. With friends. At my apartment. I
understood his need to create memories--he'd missed out on most of my life--but
as a self-proclaimed Scrooge I'd avoided anything to do with the holidays since
I'd left Beacon Hill at seventeen. But here I was layered up underneath my
leather jacket, knit hat pulled down to my eyebrows, basically dressed like the
aforementioned Eskimo.
The numbness in my hands increased with each block I walked
back to my car. Not from the cold--my purple wool gloves did a decent job--but
from the shopping bags cutting of my circulation. I loaded up the Rabriolet, an
old metallic blue VW so named because the guy who sold it took all the Rabbit
badges off and replaced them with Cabriolet, the convertible's small trunk
barely holding my haul of gifts and groceries for tonight's festivities.
The temperature inside the car barely rose a degree above
the outside temperature during the short drive back to my apartment. I pulled
into the parking space I'd shoveled out this morning after the snow stopped but
didn't rush to get out of the car. Two pep talks later I dragged myself and my
multitude of bags up the three flights of stairs which led to my place.
In a few hours every seat in the house would be filled. All
of my friends and new family were invited, something else my father insisted
upon. The list wasn't long--my apartment is just that small. Four fae including
Conry, three vampires, two wolves, one witch--and a partridge in a pear tree. I
set the groceries on the kitchen counter and dropped the rest of the bags by
the tree I'd yet to decorate.
Mason - the boyfriend – had had a beautiful Nordmann fir
delivered this morning. Its symmetrical branches created the perfect pyramid of
lush foliage. Mrs. Kincaide would have been green with envy, a shade deep
enough to rival the dark color of the needles. The tree's heavy aroma, combined
with the cinnamon scented pine cones in a bowl on the coffee table, made the
entire apartment smell like a traditional Christmas but I'd chosen a winter
wonderland theme for the decorations to represent the Solstice. Glittering
white snowflakes and icicles spilled out of boxes, waiting to be hung. Three strands
of new led lights lay next to the crystal snowflake I’d chosen instead of the
usual angel or star.
Overwhelmed barely began to describe how I felt when I
looked at all the things still undone.
I decided to prep the food and save the tree for last. Far
from domesticated, I fumbled my way through the only recipe for a main course I
thought I could manage, root vegetables, sliced and diced with pot roast. I
opened a bottle of Menage a Trois, letting the red wine breathe before I poured
the first glass. Several more bottles of wine and liquor lined the counter.
Once the oven preheated I slid the roast in and focused my
attention on dessert. In other words I took the pastries I purchased from the
bakery beneath Mason's apartment in town and arranged them on a platter. With a
wine glass in one hand and a bottle in the other I went back to the tree,
stringing the lights and hanging each ornament carefully. Conry stayed on the
couch, watching me walk circles around the tree as I pondered the age old
question - to tinsel or not to tinsel? Satisfied with the way everything looked
I opted against it.
Three different offers to help get everything ready and I
turned down everyone. I needed the time alone, cooking and decorating, to
mentally prepare myself.
Ten yuletides had come and gone since the last time I took
part in any festivities. A farewell if you will. I walked out of Castle
Kincaide on New Year's Eve. The symbolism was lost on everyone but me. This
time of year meant something entirely different to me. It wasn't a religious
experience. For me it was a rebirth. Like a phoenix, I left my old life in
ashes and rose up from the smoldering embers as something new--my own person.
After giving it some thought, I realized what the season meant to me was
remarkably similar to my father's Solstice—a celebration of the life, death and
rebirth of deities.
With less than an hour to spare before everyone arrived, it
was time to wrap presents. I voted against the idea of giving gifts, having
recalled the time I saved my lunch money to buy something for my little sister
Frankie and my parents at the holiday bazaar at school. Saying it didn’t go
well would be an understatement. After that, I'd pretty much sworn off gift
giving.
However, I’d been outvoted.
Now I sat before a pile of boxes, tissue paper, scotch tape,
wrapping paper and bows. At the greeting card store I'd started with an armful
of gift bags because I didn't think my duct tape gift wrap idea would be
appreciated but as I approached the register I noticed all the different types
of wrapping paper. Dazzled by the array of patterns and colors, I'd come to a
conclusion. Gift bags were a cop-out. If I had to do it, it wouldn't be half
ass. I'd selected nine rolls of paper, one for each gift, something that
represented the recipient.
For Arawn, silver paper embossed with a winter scene of
stags and trees which for some reason reminded me of my first encounter with
him. The dark green paper with silver stags and evergreens I picked for Mason was
perfect for the hunter in the family and similar enough to my father's to
acknowledge both as members of the Wild Hunt. Camo for Cash, a nod to his
special ops days and the way we first met. My pick for Nolak didn't come from
the Christmas paper but the midnight blue with silver wolves still seemed
appropriate. I chose white paper with glittering snowflakes for Amalie, the
sparkles reminding me of her personality.
Aidan and Ryanne had similar plaids in rich shades of
burgundy and green, a nod to the new clan they were forming together. For Dre
it wasn't so much the green paper as the beautiful cream colored french ribbon.
And for my beloved Conry I selected the biggest red bow I could find. With my
decision to personalize each package came the first stirrings of holiday
spirit. Each gift wrapped and placed under the tree stirred up a little bit
more.
By the time everyone began to arrive I'd finished the first
bottle of wine and felt down right merry. Amalie brought a beautiful tray of cheeses,
fruit and nuts. Aidan brought a case of bottled blood for himself, Ryanne and
Dre. Cash and Nolak carried in an alarming amount of holiday music and movies.
Mason brought a bough of mistletoe, holding it above our
heads as he crossed the threshold. That was a holiday tradition I could get
behind. I stepped into him, softly kissing the lips I'd been missing all day.
His other arm wrapped around me, pressing our bodies together as he deepened
the kiss and silently promised more. Satisfied with my weakened knees and rapid
heart he walked me into the living room before making a beeline to the tree, where he
hung a beautiful ice blue glass letter M
ornament. It stood out from all the others, because I knew it was more than my
first initial. It was his as well, a symbol of us. I felt the ice around my
heart melt a little bit more.
All these emotions called for more wine.
My father arrived, arms full of packages and party trays
with a contagious smile on his face. When I returned his smile with one of my own,
his comment on how much I looked like my mother had me scurrying off to check
on the roast. I blamed the lingering teary eyes on the blast of hot air which
escaped when I opened the oven. With no pending disaster or threat of death the
evening already felt a lot like one of those Christmas songs I heard earlier in
the day.
Cash gathered us all in the living room for one of his
family's favorite traditions. After taking a few jabs about it being too cold
outside to play fetch he turned on A
Christmas Story while the rest of us ruined our dinner with more drinks and
appetizers. While the credits rolled he told us about Christmas morning as a
kid, they'd open presents, stay in their pajamas and watch the all-day marathon
of the movie until it was time for dinner.
His comment reminded me to check on the roast. I waved off
the offers of help in the kitchen, preferring to listen to all of them swap
stories of varied holiday celebrations and traditions, something I'd never
experienced growing up despite appearances.
I served the best dinner I'd ever cooked. The only real
dinner I'd ever cooked actually. There were no awkward and uncomfortable
silences during the meal. Not even between Ryanne and I. My father convinced me to invite her with a
speech about how things worked out for the best and a new slight wouldn't
repair old wounds. The conversation flowed and I fed Conry under the table
while my father regaled us with tales of the great Solstice feasts in the days
when only one court ruled the Fae. Most of my roast beef made it into Conry's
mouth before my father stopped mid-sentence to point out he knew what I was
doing and remind me that Cwnn Anfwnn did not eat table scraps. With a wink in
my direction he went back to his story and I finished my potatoes and carrots.
By the time his story ended every plate was cleared. Not a
drop of blood or morsel of food remained. Glasses were raised and toasts were
made, for the hostess, for the meal and for the witch who obviously spelled my
kitchen to produce delicious food regardless of who cooked it. I'd seen and
done some weird stuff in my life. A holiday party with vampires, werewolves,
fae and a witch should be on that list but it wasn't. It was as close to
perfection as I'd experienced.
Like the proverbial kid on Christmas, Amalie ushered
everyone back into the living room to open the bar and our gifts before
dessert. I whole-heartedly supported her plan because there was no way I could
eat another bite. With a vodka and cranberry juice in hand I settled on the
couch with Mason and Conry. Amalie took on the roll of Santa, passing out gifts
to everyone. I watched as the beautiful paper and bows piled up, the carnage of
Christmas spread across my carpet.
My anxiety built as I waited for my gifts to be opened. Why
were mine handed out last? Why was this such a big deal? If they didn't like
what I picked out I had gift receipts, they could just exchange it for
something else.
So why did it feel like they'd be rejecting me instead?
Conry, always in tune
with my emotional state, picked up on my unrest and nestled in closer as a sign
of support. Mason threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled me against his
chest, whispering in my ear. "Take a deep breath. Relax. They're gifts,
not grenades."
"I think I'd handle it better if they were. It's
just... Forget it. I'm great, everything is great." I looked up at him
with my best smile in place knowing full well he wasn't fooled.
Mason gave my hand a little squeeze as Dre opened his gift,
whispering reassurances he would love whatever was inside. I remained skeptical
until the hand carved pipe and tobacco came out of the box and Dre lit up. I
considered letting him smoke in my apartment after seeing his smile when I told
him the clerk at the cigar shop said the tobacco smelled like sugar cookies. He
assured me he could wait to go outside until after everyone opened their gifts.
Amalie picked up a box, grinning when she realized it was
from me. The sparkly paper matched the excitement in her eyes, just like I’d
thought it would. She carefully slit the taped seams so the heavy paper didn't
tear and pulled it back from the box. "We used to make book covers out of
pretty paper like this when I was a kid. I've got a journal at home this would
be perfect for." She lifted the lid on the box, gasping when she saw the
grimmoire inside. "Are you serious? This is freaking amazing! It's way
better than the Swavorski crystal skull earrings I got you."
“I guess this is my clue to open your gift.” I reached in
the gift bag and pulled out the green tissue paper to reach the jewelry inside.
The earrings were beautiful and obviously custom-made, eight tiny silver
interlocking loops creating a chain effect and held a black crystal skull.
Mason swept my hair back, holding it in a makeshift ponytail so I could hook
them in. I didn't wear a lot of jewelry. In my line of work, earrings could
cost you an earlobe but these were surprisingly light weight and went perfectly
with just about everything I owned, so I could definitely wear them on my off
time.
Tired of waiting, Conry sniffed around the
tree until he found the giant bone and collar I got him. Not interested in the
collar, he left it under the tree and dragged the rawhide off to the corner.
The sound of crunching and gnawing drowned out Danny Elfman's song Making Christmas playing on one of
Cash's cds.
Aidan wrapped himself up in the charcoal cashmere scarf and
donned the silk and cashmere grey herringbone ivy cap, impressed I'd remembered
his measurements. I'd put the least amount of thought into Ryanne's green scarf
but she seemed to like it. The wolf sculpture I bought for Nolak and the small
oil painting of an alpha and his pack in the moonlight I found for Cash were a
big hit. You'd be more likely to find weapons than art at either of their places
but I could tell they appreciated the likeness to their wolves.
Surrounded by books, band shirts and chocolate covered
espresso beans, I'd already given and received some pretty awesome gifts. But
the two presents yet to be opened were the ones I was the most excited about. I
watched nervously as my father finally picked my gift, taking his time and
examining the pattern on the paper. He finally unwrapped it and opened the box,
pulling out the pocket watch.
"So you can keep track of time here when you're in
Other World." I blurted out the reasoning behind the gift before I could
catch myself, cursing under my breath. I sounded way too desperate for approval
and I knew it.
He pressed the button on the top of the watch. With a soft
click it popped open, exposing the inside cover. His thumb traced the edge of
the gold circle before resting on the black and white picture of me inside.
"If only it kept track of you." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to
my forehead. "I have been given two priceless treasures in my life. This
is one. The other is you."
As if by magic, and maybe it was knowing my father, he held
open his hand. A small portraitin a simple oval shaped wooden frame sat center
of his palm. "It is the only picture I have of her and now it belongs to
you. She swore allowing someone to capture her image also meant they could
capture a piece of your soul. She gave the artist less than an hour to paint
her likeness. I have our life together, all of the memories. Every time I close
my eyes she dances on the edge of my vision. You should have something of
her."
I managed not to cry. Barely. I considered myself a hard ass
but damn it all if my father didn't have me on the verge of tears twice in one
night. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"I'm next." Mason shifted on the couch, preparing
to give me my present when my phone started going off. "Seriously? You
have got to be kidding me." Mason muttered under his breath along with a
few other choice words about what he planned to do to whoever was on the other
end of the line. His voice was low enough I barely heard him so I was pretty
sure no one else did but it definitely had me wondering what exactly my Solstice
gift was. "Whoever it is, they can wait. Everyone who matters is here so
it can't be that important, right?"
"What if it's Council business? You are the Regulator,
after all." Aidan seemed all too eager for me to answer my phone which
made me even more suspicious. Did he know what my present was? I was getting
the impression it was something bigger than the Shamrock Fest concert tickets I
asked for.
The ringtone, which happened to be set to Bad Religion's
version of Father Christmas, meant it wasn't a number in my contacts. I liked
to assign ringtones so I knew who called without needing to actually look at
the phone. IfAgrona was calling, my phone would play the Wicked Witch theme
song from Wizard of Oz, so I knew it
wasn't her. Before I could explain that to everyone so we could get back to the
giving and receiving of gifts and I could find out what Mason was up to, my
phone gave us yet another lesson about the materialistic nature of the holidays
in the form of a catchy punk tune.
Still not adjusted to her sensitive vampiric hearing, Ryanne
jumped from her seat, raced into the kitchen, snatched my phone off the counter
and tossed it across the apartment. Dre threw a hand out and caught my phone
before it connected with my face.
"Sorry, if you don't mind getting that." Ryanne
sat back down and delicately crossed her legs, her hands resting on her knee.
"I was kind of in the middle of something here."
Mason didn't hide his disappointment at the interruption but waved me on.
"Go ahead, get it. Whoever it is isn't going to stop."
"Kincaide here." Not the most professional
greeting but it worked for me.
"Maurin, it's Mike over at the bar. Sorry to call on
your personal cell like this but we've got trouble."
I skipped the bad joke about trouble literally being in the
name of the bar. "I wouldn't have given you the number if I never expected
you to call. However, I'm kind of in the middle of a solstice party right now
and since I'm the hostess I can't really leave. Why are you laughing? Do you
have a problem or not?"
"Sorry, it’s just I never pictured you as a hostess.
And yes, we have a problem here."
"I'll have you know I make an apron look damn good.
Anyway, as I was saying, I can't come down right now but the Council's got a
small team on call for nights I'm off. I can have Amalie put a call in to
Agrona now if you want."
"Amalie's there? Good, that will save me a call. Bring
her with you."
"Mike, did you even hear what I said? I can't come down
there."
"This isn't like a rowdy group of college kids on Black
Out Wednesday or some drunk who can't handle their Solstice shooters. There's
something weird about these witches, Maurin. Their magic feels dirty. They've
run off most of my regulars. I don't want some half ass crew coming in here and
busting my bar all to hell. I'm asking you to do it. Or do I need to remind you
of the outstanding bar tab you and your friends ran up last weekend."
"Hey, you said that was on the house since we tossed
those two fang bangers and their pimp out of the bar for you. We came in to
have a quick drink after closing a case. You didn't even know they were setting
up shop selling nips and sips by the pool tables." I couldn't believe Mike
was trying to drop that bill on me. I drank a lot of damn vodka I wouldn't have
if I'd known I was paying for it. Aidan was our designated driver but the rest
of our team drank their weight in booze and blood. It would take a week's wages
to pay the bill and Mike's prices weren't that high.
"Well, I never asked you to throw them out and I never
put in a formal request for a cleaner so far as I can tell, you owe for the
bill. Now, you can come down here and settle up. I'll take it in cash or
services. It's up to you."
"Someone is going to put in a formal request for a
cleaner for you if I come down there tonight, Mike. I can't believe you're
pulling this shit."
"Maurin, what are we arguing about here? You’re the
Regulator. It's your job. And I'm telling you right now, if those newbies show
up instead of you, the Council's on the hook for the damages and you're on the
hook for the tab." Mike hung up.
Typically, when a cleaning crew goes in the hiring party is
responsible for any damages. When the Council is the hiring party, our fees and
any damages are paid out of the seized funds from the guilty party. I knew Mike
would pay for damages regardless of the newbie team. There was no way the Council
would agree because then everyone else would want damages covered and there
goes the profit margin. Still, the hassle of dealing with Mike and the Council
while they argued wasn't worth it because then I'd have to send a message to
pay and find another bar to drink at.
And I really liked Toil and Trouble.
I looked at my father, then at Mason silently asking their
approval to go. The party had been more for the two of them than anyone else
and I didn't want to ruin it, although I was pretty sure Mike already had. The
rest of the evening would be tainted, a cloud hanging over us raining what ifs all over the party.
"I'm coming with you." Mason looked a bit broken-hearted
that Mike ruined his big moment and I wondered again exactly what his gift for
me was. "Go get changed."
Torn between the first holiday happiness I'd ever
experienced and the rush of the chase, I gave him a quick kiss and headed for
my bedroom. I swapped my black leggings and black cotton skirt for a pair of
jeans but kept the Grinch tee, slipping on my oxblood eight hole Docs and pulling
on my knitted cap with the skull on it and my leather jacket. A lot less layers
than when I went shopping but I could not kick ass if I looked like the Staypuft
Marshmallow Man.
"You're going to freeze." Mason wrapped a scarf
around my neck and tucked it into my coat. "Let's go. Aidan's already
warming up the car."
"We'll meet you there." Cash stood up, Nolak
beside him.
"There's no sense in ruining everyone's night. Stay
here with Arawn and Ryanne. It's just a few witches who had too much to drink,
popping spells at Mike and the customers. We'll be in and out." I tugged
my knit hat over my ears.
"Mike wouldn't have called you on your cell if it was
that easy." Cash zipped up his coat. Wolves ran hotter than the rest of
us, something to do with their metabolism, but their skin would still be
exposed to the elements so contrary to popular belief werewolves did not run
around half naked all the time. Especially not in the winter.
"Just stay, we can handle it. We'll be back before you
know it. Tonight was going great, like perfect. If you leave then my father
probably will and then Ryanne will be alone in my apartment. Seriously,
stay."
Cash smirked, knowing that the idea of Ryanne alone at my
place would have me worried the entire time that she'd be rooting through my
stuff. She'd given no signs of being a snoop, quite the opposite in fact, since
she was Mason's trusted housekeeper in Ireland before being turned by Aidan. Still,
you couldn’t be too careful.
"So you'll wait?" I asked, before whistling for
Conry.
"If you're not back by…" Cash looked at his watch.
"Eleven, we're coming after you." He glanced at Nolak, who nodded his
agreement.
That gave us two hours to get there, bust up the band of
rowdy witches, and get back. Piece of cake. We'd be back well before midnight
and the official moment of Solstice.
We piled, or rather squeezed, into the Camaro. Amalie rode
shotgun while I sat in the back sandwiched between Mason and Conry. It took
less than fifteen minutes to get to the bar.
Abandoned by his regulars and even a couple staff members,
Mike stood alone behind the counter. A few broken liquor bottles dripped their
contents onto the shelves beneath them behind him. The jukebox's neon lights
flickered, highlighting the broken glass around it. I'd played Joan Jett's Bad Reputation more times than I could
count on that thing. It would be a shame to see it replaced with satellite
radio.
A cue ball rolled across the floor from the busted pool
table in the back, breaking the heavy silence which hung in the air. He wasn't
kidding when he called. The place was trashed.
"Where's Josh and Malcolm?" I asked, concerned
that the two guys who normally bounced for him weren't stationed at the door or
anywhere in sight.
"They're gone." His eyes quickly shifted to his
feet and back up, letting me know gone
meant dead.
"You said you had some trouble with a couple patrons
tonight?" I scanned the bar, my friends fanning out behind me but I
couldn't sense anyone else inside. "You manage to run them off on your
own?" I knew he hadn't. My skin crawled from the dark energy swirling
around us.
"It's a cloaking spell." Amalie whispered in my
ear, seconds before a blast of magic was fired in our direction.
I shoved her down and dove to my right, flipping a table and
two chairs, bruising my hip on the way down. Acid ate through the floor next to
Amalie. They’d tried to hit me, not her. I couldn't say I was entirely
surprised since I was responsible for the trial and conviction of Salem's High Priestess.
Mahalia tried to murder me but that point seemed irrelevant to most of the
witches left behind. I used the table as a shield, peering over the top to get
a look at our attackers.
The cloaking spell lost its usefulness the moment they fired
their first shot. Four witches stood before us, one of them holding a hostage.
I'd seen the girl in here before, usually after she finished a shift at the
Stop 'n' Shop. Just a townie out for a drink, caught up in a shit storm.
The witch held onto her despite her struggles to break free,
one hand crushing her throat. She stopped fighting when he pressed his pointer
finger to her temple, his hand in the shape of a gun. Her eyes grew wide with
fear, tears slipping down her cheeks. With that kind of reaction, she'd seen
him do this to someone else and knew the gesture wasn't just pretend. I figured
there were more than two bodies lying behind that bar with Mike.
Amalie fired a blast of her own magic back.
Since taking my place as liaison, she hadn't been in the line of fire but she
showed no signs of rust. Amalie hit the hostage in the chest, knocking her back
and out of the arms of the black witch before he fired his shot. The girl
dropped to the ground, scurrying away as the misfire of dark magic hit the long
mirror behind Mike, raining shards of glass everywhere.
Mike ducked down behind the counter, shouting profanities
and promises that they were going to pay for this. I still wasn't sure who they
were, these witches didn't look local, but Mike was right. They were going to
pay.
The poor girl from the grocery store didn't make it very
far. Another witch snatched her hair, pulling her up off the floor. The girl
didn't struggle, she simply hung limp from the witch's hands as the life was
sucked out of her. Renewed power and strength radiated from the witch as she
tossed the withered husk of a girl on the floor.
Magic exploded.
Frigid air rushed in through the blown out windows and
doors. Amalie stood in the center of her circle of protection. She'd set it
fast and wide enough to protect us all. Black orbs, curses meant to kill,
exploded harmlessly around us. Safe for the moment, but no closer to stopping
the dark witches.
"You can't stay in that circle forever, Regulator.
We've got all night. Your little witch will tire eventually, one of the dark
witches called out.
So they knew who I was. They came for me. Wasn't the first
time, wouldn't be the last.
"He's right. We can't stay in here forever." Dre
opened and closed his fists, obviously itching to be released from the
protective bubble.
"Four witches, powerful witches, using blood magic. If
I drop this shield they'll hit us with death curses. I don't think I can stop
them all." The sparkle left Amalie's eyes, the fear I felt that we might
not make it out alive mirrored in her gaze.
"Then it's a good thing I'm mostly dead already."
Dre broke through the circle, charging forward when the mini-blood coven
expected us to cower.
From there, chaos ruled. Magic exploded in all directions as
Amalie countered their attack. Aidan and Dre moved lightning fast, catching one
of the witches from behind. I'd never seen someone drawn and quartered before.
I could do without seeing it again. The torso fell to the floor, each vampire
tossing limbs as they rushed for the next.
A second later, two stakes flew through the air. Dre took
one in the chest, dropping instantly. Aidan tried to block the one aimed for
him, the sharpened Rowan wood going through his hand, pinning it to his chest.
Still, he rushed forward, slashing out with his good hand. He struck the witch
hard, shredding flesh and knocking her back to Conry so my guardian could
finish the job.
Two down and two to go.
Mason and I ran toward the dark witches, dodging black
curses and being peppered with lead buckshot. I took a hit in the left
shoulder. Mason took one in the ribs but we pressed forward. Daggers drawn I
dropped, sliding across a floor I would have preferred never to come in contact
with and slicing the Achilles tendon of the witch closest to me. Mason caught
him as his leg gave out, snapping his neck on the way down.
Amalie threw out a spell, slamming it into the last witch. Apparently
satisfied with the results of her magic, she toed the unconscious dark witch. "Hmm,
it worked."
"You weren't sure?" Dre muttered from the floor,
rubbing the spot where Aidan pulled the stake out of his chest. Half an inch
more and he wouldn't have been able to say anything at all.
"It's a binding spell out of the book Maurin gave me.
You can't always tell with the older grimmoires, a lot of them are fakes, but I
figured it was worth a shot." Amalie pulled out her cell to call Agrona.
If a blood coven came to take me out and look for new recruits, the Council
needed to be notified.
"What's that mark? There on his wrist, some sort of
tattoo?" I pulled the witch's sleeve up to get a better look at the
design.
"It's not a tattoo. It's drawn on the skin, some sort
of black grease paint." Mason pulled out his phone and took a picture of
the pattern which went further up the dead man’s forearm than I’d originally
thought.
"Some sort of warding?" I took a picture with my
own phone. The more documentation, the better.
"None I've ever seen." Apparently as baffled by
the symbols as the rest of us, Amalie leaned in for a closer look. "I've
never seen anything like these."
Mason gently moved Amalie's hand away. "Don't
touch."
"Why, do you think it's a curse?" Amalie pulled
her hand back.
"I'm not sure but I don't think we should touch
it." Mason thought for a moment. "Can you loosen the binding spell?
Enough to ask him a few questions but not enough he can go back to slinging
curses at us?"
"The only way to truly stop a witch from spelling is to
cut out their tongue, eyes, and cut off their hands." Amalie frowned.
"I don't know if I should tweak the spell."
The witch on the floor seized, spittle landing on the corner
of his chin. We watched him die, unable to stop it. He wasn't talking to
anyone. Ever again.
Nothing left to do but wait for the crew on call to come and
clean up. The same crew I tried to send when Mike called in the first place.
They'd set the place right, wipe it clean, and then we'd all be on the trail of
the blood coven moving into Salem. We knew there were more than four and we
planned on finding them.
I left Mike bitching about the state of the bar, reminding
him he’d insisted I come down and clear out the dark witches. Job done. Payment
for damages and the crew would come from the dead witches’ accounts. Just as
soon as we found out who they were. More motivation for the second string
coming in behind us to work faster and harder.
Mason followed me outside with my knit hat and scarf in his
hands. "You're going to freeze."
"It's not any warmer in there." I leaned in when
he wrapped my scarf around my neck, stealing a quick kiss.
He pulled the small bough of mistletoe from inside his coat
pocket, not one berry or leaf crushed. How had he managed to keep it safe
during the meltdown inside Toil and Trouble? Luck or a little solstice magic?
Probably both.
I didn't wait for him to hold it up above our heads.
Cradling his face with both hands, I drew him in. Our lips touched, gently at
first, until the lingering adrenaline from the fight inside ignited our passion
for one another. His hand slid along my back pressing me against him, moving
lower, easing inside my back jeans pocket.
With one hand fisted in his hair, I slid the other up his
shirt, tracing my fingertips along each perfectly defined muscle. In a flurry
of hands and lips, he backed me against the wall, the icy bricks acting like a
cold shower.
With a sigh, he dropped his head on my shoulder. "Back
to your place?"
"We won't be finishing this there, either. The Solstice
party, remember?"
"We could go back to my place. We still have about an
hour before Cash sends the pack out."
I rested my head against the bricks, weighing my options
while a crowd formed outside the bar. "We should go back. They'll be
worried."
He kissed me again, this one shorter than the last but
missing none of the passion. "You're right. They'll be worried."
Another kiss. "We should get back."
"The sooner we get back, the sooner the party will be
over. The sooner everyone will go home." I managed to get out between more
kisses. "And I never got to give you your gift."
"Which reminds me. I never got to give you yours."
Mason reached in to his inner coat pocket and pulled out a
small turquoise box wrapped with a white ribbon. My heart stammered in my
chest.
It was a Tiffany's box. Even I recognized that. I also knew
the box was too small for a necklace or a watch. Earrings? I prayed the
beautiful blue box held a pair of extravagant earrings I'd never wear and
insist he take back.
I wasn't ready for anything more and I couldn't bear the
thought of losing him because we were at different places in our lives. I'd get
there eventually and staring at that little jewelry box in his hand I realized
I wanted to get there with him. But I knew it was too soon.
Some of the people who came out to see what happened to
Mike's bar noticed the box in Mason's hand. So did our friends when they
stepped outside looking for us. A small crowd gathered with eager faces,
waiting for my boyfriend to get on one knee and ask me that magical question
and make me his fiancé.
Everyone except Aidan. He didn't quite have a scowl on his
face but it certainly wasn't joy either. I bit back the fear of saying no in front of all those people or
taking the ring and saying no later
when we were alone as I waited for him to kneel down.
But he never did. He just opened the box, the tiny hinges
creaking a little. I felt sick. The words don't
throw up, don't throw up, played over and over in my mind. Panicked, I
feared that's how I would end up answering his question.
When the outside spotlight finally hit the inside of the box,
a sterling silver ring glimmered at me. A ring too big to fit on my finger. A
small silver tag with the Tiffany and Co. logo engraved on one side and a date
engraved on the other.
"It goes with this." Mason held up an ordinary
door key.
A key ring. The man bought me a key ring from Tiffany's.
Relief and, to my surprise, a little disappointment flooded me. The crowd
dispersed, disappointed they weren't a part of what should be a private moment.
I took the key, turning it in my hand. One day he'd give me
a box with an engagement ring inside. One day I'd say yes. The fact he knew
this wasn't the day made me love him even more.
I smiled at him. "I think we should go to your
place."
"What about the Solstice party?" Mason's eyes were
alight with mischief.
"I want to try out my gift. Besides, we've got almost
an hour, remember." I whispered promises to show him why I made the
naughty list and walked off in the direction of his apartment. This was one
solstice neither of us would forget.
