by Sarina Dorie
“Except for me. I know who stays hidden all day because I buy each of those students a small present, one of those candy samplers they sell at Ye Green Grocery this time of year. I wrap each one and write the students’ names on them. I say it’s from Santa Claus, because if I put my name on it, students would think it was poisoned. On Christmas Day, I find half those boxes still under the tree because those students don’t even think to look for a present. They don’t think they deserve gifts. They don’t think anyone out there would care enough to buy them one.”
Tears filled my eyes. I loathed him. He was good at guilt. Already, I hated myself for my selfishness. I turned away so he wouldn’t see my shame.
Thatch had to twist the blade deeper so that it really hurt. “Last year we had two dozen students who remained at the school during the Christmas holiday. This year we have three dozen. I tried contacting former alumni and patrons to see if any would allow some of the incoming freshman someplace to stay, but few were moved by the spirit of the season. So I am left with three dozen students that I don’t know what to do with this year.”
The back door to the kitchen opened, and Mom peeked her head out, a cheerful grin on her face. She carried two steaming mugs. “I hope I’m not interrupting, kids. I just brought you something to warm you up.”
Ugh! Why did she have to do something nice for him? I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes before she saw.
She trudged up to us through the snow in her thick coat and galoshes. A layer of white dusted her as she walked. She shoved a mug of cocoa at me. Marshmallows floated at the top. My favorite. I inhaled chocolate-and-vanilla-perfumed steam.
She tried to hand the second mug of cocoa to Thatch.
He waved her off. “No, thank you. I’ll be leaving in a moment. Perhaps one of the children would enjoy this. They have so little to look forward to in their lives. Any attention and kindness you are willing to show them goes a long way.” He said it in such a cloyingly gentle tone, I knew he intended the comment as a dig at me.
“I can’t give this to the girls.” Mom giggled. “I spiked it with Irish cream. I already made myself a mug earlier, and I don’t want to drink any more. I’ll get tipsy, and I don’t want to be a bad role model. If you want, you can just use the mug to warm your hands, and then pour the cocoa into the bushes.” White snow clung to her red eyelashes, and she blinked it away.
“Well, in that case, I’ll drink it as a favor.” He bent down toward her as he spoke, displaying his best imitation of a smile. “I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
She patted his face like she would a child’s. He endured it with stoic neutrality.
The three girls stood at the kitchen window now, watching us and pointing. Mom’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You know what they’re saying, don’t you?”
“Um… .” I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.
“They’re speculating about the reason you came out here. They wonder why you’re standing under this tree.” She pointed up at the barren oak limbs before traveling back along the path toward the house.
Thatch scowled. I followed his gaze. Hanging from the branch above us was a cluster of green leaves with white berries. Mistletoe.
My face flushed with heat. My fairy godmother’s matchmaking was pathetically transparent and embarrassing. I wondered if the mistletoe had been there all along or my mom had magicked it there for her own amusement. If Thatch hadn’t insinuated Hailey Achilles into my holiday plans, I might have longed to kiss him. As it was, I wanted to punch him.
Thatch glowered after my mom. Only after she had closed the door did he set his mug aside, stand on tiptoe, and tear down the mistletoe. Some of the berries dropped, and I covered my mug with my hand. He stomped on the mistletoe and crushed the berries.
“What was that for? You just killed a plant in my mom’s yard,” I said.
“It’s a parasitic plant.” He picked up his mug and gulped it down. “And, as I’m certain you know if you’ve been keeping up with your studies in Grandmother Bluehorse’s class, it’s poisonous. I can’t have you slipping any into my cocoa while I’m not looking, and I have no doubt you would from those dirty looks you’re giving me.”
I sipped at my cocoa. I might fantasize about it, but I wouldn’t actually do it.
He resumed his lecture. “I want you to consider for just a moment, Miss Lawrence, how fortunate you are to have been raised by your fairy godmother. Not every child out there has the advantages you had. Your parents didn’t use you for your magic or take advantage of your affinity. Mrs. Lawrence welcomed you into her home and loved you even though you weren’t her child. She opened her heart and home to you. Perhaps you can find it in yourself to extend the same kindness to some of the children around you. Hailey might not be your favorite student, but it makes her no less deserving of happiness.”
I shifted the mug in my hands, watching the steam swirl into the air and dissipate. I wanted to be a good person like my fairy godmother, but Hailey had used up all her chances with me. I couldn’t reach her. I had given up on her.
“But why Hailey? There are so many other kids you could have brought.” Like anyone.
“I think she would benefit from your mentoring. You would do each other both some good.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, if you still wish me to take Hailey back to school to spend Christmas Day in the dungeon doing homework like I made her do last year to ensure she stayed out of trouble, I will do so. But if it makes any difference, I did tell her if she was rude, ungrateful, or homicidal, I would hear about it and chain her to the walls of the dungeon and use snow torture on her.”
The silence stretched between us, unbearable and tense.
I didn’t want to say yes, but I knew it was the right thing to do. “Fine. She can stay.”
He smiled, his tone taking on his usual superior arrogance. “I knew you’d see the logic of my argument.”
“Wait.” I held up a finger. “She can stay if it’s okay with my mom. This is her house, not mine.”
He sipped at his cocoa. “Of course.”
I started along the path toward the house.
“Clarissa.” He tugged at the elbow of my coat.
What annoying thing was he going to ask of me now?
“Thank you.” He offered me a tentative smile. His hand remained on my elbow as he stared into my eyes.
He doled out appreciation and kind words sparingly. It made me appreciate it more.
Puffs of steam came out of our mouths, fogging the air between us. I wanted to say something to acknowledge him, but words failed me.
The storm clouds of his eyes were calm. He leaned in slightly. He wet his lips, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He was going to kiss me. My heart lurched with fear and excitement. There was no mistletoe, no lame excuse to blame the moment on. It was just us and our feelings for each other.
I didn’t completely understand what those feelings were. He’d been kind to me and taken care of me when I’d been recovering from using my magic on Julian. The time I’d leaned against him in the wardrobe had felt safe and comfortable. I’d never felt like that with anyone other than Derrick. Only, I didn’t know if I would ever see Derrick again. I didn’t know what the future would hold.
I only knew what I wanted in the present.
He glanced at the kitchen window. Someone shifted away from the curtain. The moment faded, and he dropped his hand from my arm. I trudged through the snow to the house, kicking up powder as I went. In the last hour we must have gotten a couple of inches. Warm air met me as I opened the door. Lucifer watched us with his yellow eyes flashing from the shadows underneath the kitchen table.
Thatch inhaled deeply as he stepped inside after me. The three teenagers leaned against the counter, Imani pointing out the differences in the treats we’d made. Thatch selected the largest brownie, shoving the entire thing in his mouth. He must have inhaled it without chewing.
He waved a hand at the dessert tree. “I hope the girls demonstrate an appropriate level of gratitude for a homecooked meal and baked goods.”
“Should we set an extra plate for dinner?” Mom asked. “Will you be staying?”
“No, I have duties back at the school. But thank you.”
“Please, stay for dinner, Mr. Thatch. Please!” Imani begged.
“At least let us make you a plate of cookies,” Mom insisted.
“Really, I’m fine.”
“How about for the students?” she asked. “How many are at the school for Christmas?”
“Thirty-five.”
Mom waved a pot holder at an empty tin on the counter. “Imani, would you be a dear and get that?” She whispered none too quietly, “And make sure you put some extra ones in there for Mr. Thatch.”
Maddy helped pick out cookies, smiling and whispering about which she thought people would like.
I tugged Mom aside into the hallway. “I think Mr. Thatch is lingering to see if you’ll allow Hailey to stay.”
“Of course, I will. Why wouldn’t I?”
“We don’t have enough bedding. Where will she sleep?”
“She can sleep in my room.”
I shook my head. Her generosity astounded me. Where had I gotten my selfishness from? She had raised me. Shouldn’t some of it have rubbed off on me? Maybe I was like my biological mother. Wicked. Stingy. Self-centered. More concerned about the end goal rather than the journey it took to get there.
I needed to stop focusing on Loraline and being her daughter and start focusing on being the person my fairy godmother had raised me to be. I wanted to be good like Abigail Lawrence.
“She can sleep in my room, Mom. I’ll sleep on the floor of your room.”
She kissed my cheek. “Run around the corner to Mrs. Holloway and ask her if she has a blanket she can spare. She makes quilts. Did you know?” She returned to the kitchen.
Thatch sat at the table, an array of Turkish delight and fudge on his plate. Imani gushed about how she had helped make them. Hailey and Maddy ate more than they packed in the tin.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Mom said. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay, Mr. Thatch?”
He glanced at me. “I’ll think about it.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a hint of a smile.
I left the house and walked over to Mrs. Holloway’s. The snow came down in dense clusters that obscured the Christmas lights of all the houses on the block. If I hadn’t walked past the neighbor’s house so many times, I might have missed the turn into her driveway. As it was, everything was so white, I stepped off the sidewalk and into the drifts in the grass. I tripped into a bush and righted myself. Hopefully no one from our house had been watching. The snow was probably too thick to see me anyway. I could barely see my mom’s house.
Loud Christmas music came from Mrs. Holloway’s. Her family laughed from inside. I knocked on the door. Mrs. Holloway was an elderly woman with curly silver hair. I introduced myself and explained we had an additional guest who intended to stay the night and that we needed a blanket.
“Not a problem, dear. Your mother is such a darling, always bringing me vegetables in the summer and canned jams and pickles in the fall. It’s the least I can do to send over a blanket. I’ll be right back.”
As she disappeared inside her house, I thought about how different things were here in the Morty Realm. People did things because they were nice or they wanted to. Mom gave her neighbors produce she grew in her garden. She baked them bread and gave away cookies. People liked her. They returned her kindness, not because they owed her, but because she inspired friendship and neighborly affection in them.
My biological mother had lived in a world of quid pro quo. People only helped her if she did something for them in return. That was the world I lived in now.
I wished I could have inspired friendship in the people around me like my fairy godmother. I had failed miserably with Vega. I had failed with Hailey.
I waited outside Mrs. Holloway’s door, tucking my fingers under my armpits and stomping the cold from my feet. I was glad I’d thrown on a coat, but I wished I’d brought gloves. Would it have killed me to listen to my mother for once?
People laughed inside Mrs. Holloway’s house, and voices talked over one another. Bing Crosby sang “White Christmas,” which seemed fitting. Mrs. Holloway took forever. I wished she’d invited me in.
I kept thinking about what Thatch had said. My life had been easy. I could have been one of those orphan children on Christmas, pining for a family, and love, and cookies. I could have been like Hailey with no one to care about me. He was correct that I took everything for granted. I should have spent more time being thankful and passing what I had on to others. Who would have thought the grumpy and dour Felix Thatch would be the one to remind me to count my blessings?
I rubbed my hands together. I knew a spell for warmth. It was one of the ones from Jackie Frost’s class. Of course, Witchkin weren’t supposed to use magic in the Morty Realm—not without wards to hide what they were doing. But it was so cold, I could see how someone would be tempted to use magic.
The air glittered and twinkled around me. A hook felt as though it had lodged itself under my breastbone, pulling me closer to … something, though I remained exactly where I was. A rush of vertigo washed over me. It felt like magic, like the time Julian had been “protecting” me with wards, but he had really been casting a spell over me to try to seduce me. This was like the seashell I’d been compelled to touch.
I knew magic was at work, but I couldn’t do anything about it. My will was no longer my own. I pinched my hand, but my skin was too numb from the cold to hurt enough to jolt me out of it.
The air around me grew colder. All other thoughts faded. More than ever I wanted to use magic to warm myself. I had seen the wards to protect me from Fae, and there were plenty of electronics in the houses around me to keep me safe from their scrutiny.
I muttered the Latin words under my breath and blew against my fingers. I drew in energy from the air around me, sucking it into my body and transforming the elements into the kind of fuel my affinity digested to turn into magic. The warmth spread through me, radiating from my center. The slush on the porch under my feet melted.
The warming spell from Jackie Frost’s class was my best magic yet. I smiled to myself, quite pleased I hadn’t set anything on fire. I was getting better at magic. I couldn’t wait to tell Josie.
A moment later, Mrs. Holloway returned with the blanket. Immediately I snuffed the fire. The old woman apologized for taking so long. It was a great big quilt, heavier than what I’d expected. As I thanked her, the lights inside her house went out. The music died.
“Oh darn! I have a roast in the oven!” she said.
If the electricity was out, that meant Fae could enter the neighborhood without fear of harm. I backed away. “Thanks, Mrs. Holloway. I have to go.”
I lumbered through the snow, trying not to catch the blanket on any of the icicles hanging from trees. I hadn’t realized how dark it was. Perhaps it was all the lights going out on the street.
I rounded the bend in the sidewalk. All warmth from the spell had left me. Someone had compelled me to use magic. Someone wanted me to get in trouble … to get snatched.
My feet crunched over a thin sheet of frozen snow. The drifting white flakes around me shimmered, catching blue light from a neighbor’s Christmas lights. At least, I thought it was someone’s decorations. Perhaps not everyone’s power was out. That reassured me.
The world was quiet, save for my feet. As I slogged through the thick white veil falling around me, the glow on the path up ahead grew brighter. The blue and white twinkles reminded me of Hanukkah decorations.
A girl who looked like she was about fourteen stood in the path. Her head was topped with a crown made of intricate lace that matched the flowing white and blue of her gown. The cut reminded me of Eastern
European folk dresses. It took a moment to realize the fabric was made of snow.
I stopped in my tracks. Her blue lips curved into an inviting smile. She glided toward me, leaving no tracks in the snow. The lingering warmth of my earlier spell wicked away.
She was an elemental Fae. This time of year, she would be at her strongest. She spoke, the words sounding Russian. Her voice was happy and sing-song, but I knew not to trust Fae. The closer she came, the colder it grew. I tried to back away, but she held up a finger and clucked her tongue at me.
The snow crunched and groaned around me. Cold encased my legs, making my toes tingle and then burn. A delicate lattice of lace crept up my legs. This was not good.
My heart pounded like a drum in my ears. I shook my head at the girl.
Her smile grew broader, dimples appearing in her round cheeks. She stretched out a hand, her fingernails sharp and pointed like icicles as they grazed my cheek. Cold flooded through me, making me tremble uncontrollably. This is what happened to people in blizzards. They walked twenty feet and somehow got lost, only they didn’t really get lost. A snow queen got them.
I couldn’t allow her to snatch me. I focused on my affinity in my core. All I had to do was shoot it up my arms and out my hands like I had before. It would kill her, and then I would be safe.
She continued to speak. Perhaps it was an enchantment. Perhaps she was trying to communicate. It didn’t matter. I was too cold to think.
In order to stimulate my affinity, I needed pleasant sensations in my body. I needed touch and contact. In the stinging chill the winter fury brought with her, I couldn’t feel anything.
My fingers grew stiff and numb in the folds of the blanket. Every breath of cold stabbed my lungs. My face stung at first, but gradually numbed. The Fae’s blue eyes stared into mine. My vision grew cloudy and dimmed. I couldn’t move my eyeballs. I couldn’t move anything.