On My Way

by Eve Langlais

  “Who is it?” I asked. I’d seen Kane the other day. Darryl had popped by with new items just that morning. Jace, being Jace, skulked the properties.

  “I don’t want to say, but I will warn you, this will be disturbing.” He gestured, and two of the officers working farther down the beach returned. At his direction, they lifted the body and carried it toward me.

  The person I’d killed.

  I’d finally see their face.

  See what I’d done.

  My stomach churned. Would I get in even more trouble if I threw up on the body?

  Murphy knelt in the trampled snow and pulled the zipper. I swayed on my feet, clasped my hands, and let out a sound—more a sob than anything—as Martin’s frozen face appeared.

  “Oh God.” I couldn’t help but moan. I’d done it. I’d killed my ex-husband. I’d be going to jail. I’d—

  “…days.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?”

  “I was saying the body was discovered this morning, but according to the ME, it’s been out here for days.”

  “How did he die?” I tried to pretend as if I didn’t know.

  Apparently, I didn’t.

  “Exposure.”

  “What?”

  “From the looks of it, he got lost outside and wandered around. With the nights being subzero, he ended up freezing to death. Now, I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but could you confirm. Do you know this person?”

  “Yes. It’s my ex-husband. Martin Dunrobin.”

  “Thank you, and I am sorry. Usually we’d have you come down to the morgue to do this. However, with Christmas a few days away…”

  “It’s fine.”

  It was and wasn’t. On the one hand, apparently, I hadn’t killed Martin. On the other…

  Who did I shoot? And were they still out there?

  When I was done telling Winnie what I’d spent the evening doing, she stared and mumbled, “I can’t believe he’s dead. And you didn’t do it.”

  The elation at the realization made me feel guilty. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” She yelled suddenly, her voice thick with tears. “Dad was an asshole. He was mean to you, to me, to Geoff. And he got meaner as he got older.”

  “I should have stopped him.”

  “You mean divorced him awhile ago? Yeah, you should have.” Winnie sniffed. “But that wouldn’t have changed the fact he hated us. Hated me. I don’t understand why I’m crying.” She scrubbed at her eyes.

  “Because he was your father.”

  “He was a fucking dick.”

  I said nothing. I didn’t want to agree, but I wasn’t lying to her anymore.

  She leaned against me. “What happens now?”

  “We go on, like before.”

  “Without the fires and vandalism.”

  “Yup.” I lied to her. A small white one because much as I wanted to believe my problems ended with Martin, I couldn’t help but wonder.

  Was the real culprit dead?

  The next day I chose to stay home with Winnie. Forget the shop. My girl needed me. Trish arrived that morning with a box full of goodies.

  “Orville sent this. He’s bringing more after work. He’s shutting down at three today.”

  It was only then that I realized it was Christmas Eve. And I’d not gotten any gifts. Heck, I’d not even found a tree.

  I’d failed as a mother. Never mind Winnie was old enough to not care. It was Christmas Eve, and I’d forgotten not only to decorate but gifts, too.

  I eyed Trish. “I need to go into town for a few hours.”

  “You need to sit down and relax. You’ve had a shock.”

  “Please, Trish.”

  She pursed her lips. “I guess with Martin gone, it’s safe.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that Martin had died many days ago. Well before most of the incidents. What possessed the idiot to hide in the forest with no supplies? According to Murphy, he had no real outdoor gear at all. No wonder he froze to death. Wasn’t it just my luck that, in the end, Martin screwed me again. His rictus of discomfort would probably haunt me for the rest of my life. Just like guilt would be my constant companion because the first thing I felt upon realizing he was truly dead? Relief.

  I was going to hell. But not before I ensured my Winnie got a Christmas.

  She might not have liked her dad, but she was feeling guilty about it. I needed to remind her of the good people in her life. The positive.

  The love.

  It was crazy in the stores. Only idiots, and me, shopped on Christmas Eve, braving the shoving, frantic-eyed people, the harried cashiers.

  I couldn’t be too choosy, not with the leftovers. By the time I had everything, it was late afternoon. Rather than wrapping paper, I’d hit the dollar store and gotten gift bags. Before heading home, I swung by the restaurant to give Orville his present—an apron that said, “King of the Grill.” The ruddy hue in his cheeks was the only present I needed, but he had a gift for me as well. Low-carb chocolates with creamy fillings.

  “Delicious,” I said with a possibly inappropriate moan.

  “I made them myself.” Which earned him a hug and brought even more bluster and red to his face.

  Leaving the diner, I hit my shop quick and grabbed my grandma’s books, taking a peek around, satisfied everything was in its place. No more vandalism. Maybe my troubles were finally over. A woman could hope.

  Approaching my house, I smiled to see it lit up with multicolored lights in the window. It took some juggling to grab everything in the car. I should have done two trips, but I figured the book I missed on the back seat could wait until the morning. I wanted to stay inside where it was warm and Bing Crosby crooned about a “White Christmas.” Winnie sat at the counter stringing popcorn. Marjorie was pulling cookies out of the oven, and Trish was patting her butt when she bent over.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” I declared, holding up my treasures, which caused me to drop Grandma’s books. Oops.

  “Mom!” Winnie’s face lit up at the sight of me.

  “You’ve been busy,” I declared.

  “So have you. Put your stuff with the others.” She waved to the table where gifts were piled around a small fake tree, about two feet high and gaudy with its blinking lights.

  I smiled. “Love it!”

  “I found it tucked in the cellar.”

  Cellar? When did the house acquire one? Did that explain the new door in the kitchen where there used to be a small pantry?

  “I hope it’s okay I invited Trish and Jojo to spend the night.”

  “Of course, it’s all right.” Anything that brought a smile to my girl’s face was okay by me. My bed could handle the two of us for the night.

  I was glad to see she’d begun to heal already. Martin had already caused enough strife in her life. She didn’t need any more.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked.

  Before I could get a reply, there was a knock at the door. My heart stopped. Was it the police? Perhaps they’d changed their minds.

  Winnie flew to the door. “I invited one more person.”

  Darryl tipped us all a salute. “Ladies. Hope you don’t mind I brought a few things.”

  One of those things peered around his hips with big brown eyes.

  “What is that?” Winnie squeaked. “Is that a dog?”

  The excitement in her face had me saying, “That’s Herbie. Come on in, big guy.”

  I’d swear the dog understood because he came barreling for me, past Winnie and her round eyes, knocking me on my ass and licking me to the point I squirmed and giggled.

  Darryl bellowed, “Herbie, you big dumb doofus, get off Naomi. Right now.”

  Herbie did but only because Wendy called him. “Herbie. You’re so cute.”

  The dog had just made a new best friend.

  Darryl hauled me to my feet. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

  I nodded. “How can I get mad when he’s just excited to see m
e?”

  “I’m excited, too, but I’m controlling myself.” His eyes twinkled, and I blushed.

  “Are you staying for supper?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. But first, I brought you something.”

  He went back out, and I followed to see him hauling a tree from the bed of his truck. A real Christmas tree.

  I clapped my hands. “Darryl, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Shut it, woman. Least I could do with the way you’ve been helping me out with that junk.”

  Junk that was selling.

  In short order, we’d set the tree up in the corner and put presents around the base of it, declaring it the most beautiful thing ever. It was solid, too. Just look at Grisou, who climbed to the very top to escape Herbie.

  We crowded around the island for dinner. The fondue set we’d located at the back of a cupboard was made of cast iron, and we piled around it to eat. Chunks of chicken and beef, stewed in the boiling broth then dipped in various sauces. We had bite-sized appetizers: jalapeno poppers—my favorite—bacon-wrapped asparagus, crispy cauliflower, and a hot dip.

  The cookies for dessert turned out to be coconut made with a bit of egg, almond flour, and stevia. Low carb and delicious with the eggnog we whipped up. Spiked for me, Trish, and Winnie, virgin for Darryl and Marjorie. It was the best Christmas Eve ever, and I was sorry to see it end when Darryl rose to leave just after eleven.

  I saw him to the door, cheeks flushed.

  He stroked my jaw. “Have a merry Christmas, Naomi.” He kissed me.

  Lightly but enough for the peanut gallery to yell, “Give her some tongue!”

  Me being me, I pulled away, blushing. Darryl didn’t seem to mind. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Here, I got you something.” He slipped me a small box.

  “I didn’t get you a present,” I wailed.

  “Just knowing you is gift enough,” he said, dropping another light kiss on my lips.

  My happiness just about floated me off the floor. I watched him leave and sighed.

  Trish joined me. “You’re going to have to jump his bones.”

  “Maybe.”

  “No maybes. You’re horny, and he likes you.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “Then you try again.”

  “Sounds scary.”

  “Taking a chance always is. Now come on. It’s Christmas Eve, and we haven’t exploded any kittens yet.”

  “What?” I exclaimed as she dragged me back to the others.

  I found out what she meant and then proceeded to laugh harder than I ever recalled.

  A brisk knock at the door only minutes before midnight stifled the laughter.

  “Maybe Darryl came back for another kiss,” Winnie suggested.

  “I doubt that.” Still, I was the one who rose to go answer. Cheeks flushed. Happy. And smiling.

  Jace stood on the porch, wearing a plaid lumberjacket buttoned closed for once, sporting a tuque and gloves.

  “Jace. Hi. Care to come in and play—” I whirled. “What’s that game called again?”

  “Exploding Kittens.”

  His left brow arched. “I think I will pass. I actually came to bring you something. I found it lost on the road.” He stepped aside, and I gaped.

  “Geoff?”

  “Hey, Mom. Figured with what happened, you might need another shoulder to lean on.”

  “Come here.” I drew him in for a hug that lasted too long.

  I was okay with it.

  25

  Interlude: No, it’s not quite over

  Standing at the perimeter dividing the properties, I noticed the bright lights in all the windows, but that wasn’t the only thing that kept me lurking in the shadows. I tucked my hands behind my back, a cold and dark sentinel, very much aware of the line mere inches from my toes. A few days ago, I could have crossed it easily, but now… I eyed the nimbus imbuing the very land itself.

  “It’s awake,” a voice advised from behind.

  I didn’t turn to look. No need since I was well aware of my lieutenant’s approach. “It was never fully asleep to start with. Merely slumbering, waiting for its mistress to rouse it.”

  “We should have burned it when we had a chance.”

  “And then she would have never come.” I admired the sheer elegance of everything that had happened thus far. Even as it caused me to shift my own plans. In the end, though, the outcome would be the same.

  “She’s been nothing but trouble,” my lieutenant grumbled.

  “As is to be expected from one of her ilk.” Turning from the protected cottage with its merriment and good cheer—that wouldn’t last—I left, returning to the mill, which would begin shipping the amphoras of mud shortly.

  Years in the planning. Now coming to fruition. I strode straight through, paying no mind to those bowing or prostrating themselves at my passage. The only one who didn’t scrape lay limp on the dock. All three heads resting on their chins. The skin dry and cracked. Did it know its use was coming to an end?

  “Massstah.” The hissed word had me turning to see one of my spindly-limbed minions returning from a mission.

  “Did you find it?” I asked.

  The creature nodded yes and then shook its head no. It dropped a book on the floor, mere inches from its steel-toed boot. I picked up the top one with a black leather-clad hand.

  “Spells.” I spat in distaste, tossing it aside. “I have no need of ingredients and chants. I told you to bring me back the leather-bound grimoire with a tree etched on the front.”

  “Isss gone.” The creature tried to shrug.

  As if it could excuse its failure. A mere wave of my hand was all it took to remove the disappointment. The carcass was hauled away. By morning there would be nothing left. My minions were always hungry.

  “Where is it?” I asked quietly, as if the book could answer.

  “Where is what?” My captain arrived, still moving slowly, the gunshot wounds taking their time to heal. How she’d even gotten hold of the gun with its pure iron bullets was a mystery.

  “The book,” I snapped. “I know it left the house, and yet my trackers can’t find it.”

  “You know it protects itself.”

  “Don’t irritate me,” I said with a scowl.

  “You’re the one who is irritable. Because of her. Why is she still here?”

  “Because she proved harder to frighten off than expected.”

  “Maybe you should have been trying harder,” was my captain’s sarcastic reply. “I thought she couldn’t be around for the prophecy to work.”

  “There are many interpretations, including the one that claims her death is needed to fulfill it. Meaning, for the moment, she lives, and stays.”

  “And what if she decides to move on?”

  “Then I will convince her to stay. I have a plan.”

  “What kind of plan?”

  “How does any man convince a woman to do what he wants?” Much as the thought repulsed, I’d have to seduce the witch. Abase myself for the greater good. But I consoled myself with the fact that when her use came to an end, she would die.

  Slowly. Painfully.

  And once she was gone, the malleable daughter—with the same blood and none of the training or protective marks—would be mine.

  Epilogue

  Christmas passed too quickly. The morning a chaotic laughter-filled affair of paper and happiness.

  For some reason the card and gift card I thought I’d mailed to Geoff ended up under the tree on a box with an old pocket watch inside that Geoff declared the coolest.

  Thank you, house.

  Winnie got me winter boots while I’d picked for her a membership to learn how to throw an axe.

  She’d glanced at it and then me.” Seriously, Mom?”

  “Yup. I’m going to do it with you.”

  “When am I ever going to need to know how to throw an axe?”

  “During the apocalypse,” Geoff declared.
“Everyone knows it’s coming.”

  Which led to more discussion. And food. So much food.

  But all of it low carb, so while I went over a bit for the day, I wouldn’t suffer. It wasn’t until later that I remembered Darryl’s gift to me.

  The tiny box opened, and inside nestled a brooch, a delicate metal filigree tree, set with a single jewel in the trunk. I held it up, and it glinted on the ceiling, illuminating for a second the sigils embedded in it.

  So pretty, and all I’d given him—after one in the morning, during a slightly drunk voicemail—was a bold invitation to go to the movies. My treat. I am pretty sure I mentioned I’d spring for snacks, too.

  As I went to place the pretty brooch back into the box, it gave me an idea. I padded over to my dresser where I’d tucked away the ring. Since Kane’s offer, I worried about leaving it lying around. Why was he so interested?

  I brought it back to bed with me, along with the tree book, which, for some reason, I wanted to have close. I sat it on my lap and opened it to the first empty page. I turned on my bedside lamp and blinked at the brightness.

  What the heck? A peek showed a gooseneck light with a fluorescent type bulb. Hello, UV light. I held it over the book.

  At first, nothing happened, and I felt stupid. Then the tingling started, the air dropped a few degrees, and, as my breath frosted from my mouth and hit the page, writing appeared.

  “Well, I’ll be,” I exclaimed.

  I quickly flipped through the beginning of the book, noticing the scrawled names and dates that meant nothing to me, but it was the final entry, with my name and those of my kids, that had me exclaiming, “What the fuck!”

  The End

  Exactly what did Naomi discover? Naomi is on her way to finding out, but not before her life gets even stranger. An accident and a coma has her waking up thinking her cat can talk. Are you ready for Don’t Stop Believing?

  For more Eve Langlais books please visit EveLanglais.com