Death Takes a Holiday

by Jennifer Harlow

  “Will—”

  “RUN!” he bellows though his expanding snout.

  I leap up and back out of the tunnel, shaking violently. The sound of muscle and bone cracking and reforming hurts me almost as much as it does him. He howls and gazes up at me, baring his serrated teeth. Looking at me as if I’m dinner.

  So I run.

  FOURTEEN

  AN ALEXANDER FAMILY CHRISTMAS

  TRAGIC. SO TRAGIC. SEVEN officers of the law dying in a house fire so near Christmas. Apparently they were at a cabin in the woods celebrating the holidays when there was a gas leak. Kaboom. Horrible. Good thing I packed a black dress. And I’ve been practicing my bereaved ex-girlfriend expression for the funeral. It’s pretty convincing. Steven would be proud; he did teach me a lot about hiding your true self. Or maybe it was the other way around.

  I messed up my arm again going back to the caves, as it turns out. Surgery is scheduled for next week as soon as the swelling goes down, and I have weeks of physical therapy to look forward to before I’m cleared for duty. I might actually get some rest now, but not privacy anytime soon. I doubt Nana will let me leave the house without an escort ever again.

  The good news is I didn’t miss the holidays. Nana, using her preternatural powers of persuasion, managed to convince everyone to stay and celebrate with us. George even flew in. Right now he and Nana are standing in the kitchen talking and giggling. I swear he’s flirting with her. That’d be just what I need, my boss and my grandmother an item. Ugh.

  Nana’s house has never been so full. I move around the festivities sipping eggnog. Renata and April chat outside about breastfeeding as Carl and Andrew entertain the kids with chalk and scary stories. Javi and Agents Rushmore, Chandler, and Wolfe rest in the corner talking guns and hunting. Apparently elk is harder to kill than deer. Who knew? Nancy is in my bedroom trying on the shirt I bought her. (Johnny Depp can do no wrong.) My brother sits in his old bedroom rifling through that box of Mom’s examining the photos while trying to remain unemotional. And failing. He actually hugged me when he came in. Sure, it was awkward and stiff, but the man touched me. Forward progress times ten. I walk past the room to leave him alone with what remains of our mother. As for Will …

  We found Steven’s corpse, or what was left of it. He … um … it was bad. I try not to think about it, but when the man you love rips the heart of your ex inches from your face and then eats him, it’s quite difficult. Will hasn’t left mobile command. We found him unconscious in wolf form around the location I crawled out of the river. He must have thrown himself in. He was completely healed, thankfully, but didn’t wake up until yesterday. I tried to see him, but was informed I was persona non grata. I haven’t tried again.

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I set down my eggnog. Oliver waits outside with a stack of presents, a Santa hat, and Grin Number One. “Happy Christmas, my darling. May I come in?”

  “I don’t know,” I say playfully, “promise not to hit on my sister-

  in-law?”

  “Yes, but your grandmother is fair game.”

  I smile back. “I think George beat you to it. Come on in.”

  He steps in, sets down the gifts, and hugs me. It’s awkward because my left arm is in a festive sling, courtesy of Nancy and the kids, but I hug him back as best I can. “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “For what?”

  We break apart. “Including me. Not dying. Being you.”

  “You’re my friend, Oliver. You’re always welcome here. No matter what. Especially when you come bearing gifts.” I eye the boxes. “So, what did you get me?”

  He plucks the top present off the pile, handing it to me. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  I can’t wait. The man gives good present. I rip it open. Inside is a necklace, a small gold compass on a simple chain. Inscribed on the back is, To always find your way back to me. My heart actually warms. Oliver smiles as he fastens it around my neck. “I love it. Thank you. I’ll never take it off.”

  “And … ” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my charm bracelet. “You keep losing this.” He helps me put it on too.

  My skin tingles where he’s touched me. I have to look away. “So. How’d you get here?”

  “Connor drove me. He is waiting for you outside. He wants to give you a gift as well.”

  “Oh,” I say, disappointed. “So Will’s not … ”

  “Still cataloguing evidence. I will send him your regards.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. I sigh. “I better go talk to Connor. It might be a crime to keep a Lord waiting.”

  I open the door and step outside before Oliver says, “Trixie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He does not deserve you. Not one whit.”

  Once again he leaves me speechless. I have to walk away before I do something I may regret.

  Connor waits inside his Ferrari while I get in. “Hello, Agent Alex-

  ander.”

  “Lord McInnis. You summoned?”

  With a smirk, he reaches under my seat, lightly brushing my legs. He pulls out a small red package, handing it to me. “Happy Christ-

  mas.”

  Surprised but curious I unwrap it, finding a first edition of Villette by Charlotte Brontë. Signed. “Wow,” is all I can say.

  “Oliver informed me Miss Brontë was your favorite author. I have no use for it.”

  “It’s signed!”

  “Yes. I met her once. Shy creature but quite talented.”

  “I—I can’t accept this. It’s worth thousands of dollars.”

  “A peace offering.”

  “More like you’re buttering me up,” I say slyly. “I’ve got your number, Danny Boy. You want something. Out with it.”

  He clicks his tongue. “You see right through me, do you? Well, in that case, I was wondering if you would accompany me to dinner and the cinema. To begin with.”

  I smile but don’t hesitate to answer. “No, thank you. I have enough man trouble without throwing a ruthless leader of vampires into the mix. Especially one who only wants me for my mind.”

  “That was before,” he says. “Now I want your body as well.”

  I try to suppress the chuckles but a few escape. “It’s closed for repairs at the moment.”

  “I am a patient man. I just ask that when you are weighing your options, you keep me in mind. I shall be waiting.”

  “You do remember that I have a boyfriend, right?”

  “Yes, but that has never stopped me before.”

  He leans across and kisses me. I let him. It’s nice, soft. For a second I kiss him back. But after the initial thrill, I feel nothing. A gorgeous man who, yes, I do lust after quite a bit, is kissing me and I’m not happy? It’s good, no doubt, but not great. There is only one great.

  I pull away and smile to myself. “Thank you. For everything.” I take my book and climb out, hustling into the house for my purse and car keys. There’s something I have to do. Before it’s too late.

  Will is in the conference room at mobile command cataloguing the evidence we collected from the scene—weapons, troll body parts, you name it—when I walk in.

  “Hi,” I say.

  He stands from the table, startled to see me. Almost horrified. “H-Hello.”

  This would be the point for one of our awkward silences, but not this time. “Why haven’t you stopped by? Everyone’s at my house for Christmas. Why aren’t you there?”

  “I … I didn’t mean … I just have a lot of work to do before we go back.”

  I move toward him, taking a bag of troll teeth from his hand. He tenses as I do. “Well, not tonight you don’t. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to open presents and drink eggnog and—”

  He takes a step away. “Bea, stop it! Just stop it. I don’t want to go back and play nice with everyone and—and—” he stammers. “I just don’t.”

  I step toward him, and he steps back. “So what? You want to spend Christmas alone with
a bunch of troll parts? Is that what you want, Will? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  I take another step forward, and he takes another step back. “Liar. Stop lying. Stop torturing yourself. So, you’re a werewolf. A couple of times a month, you’re a killing machine. At least I know you’re part monster. I spent two years with one and didn’t have a clue.”

  “And I ate him,” Will says. He takes a menacing step toward me, and now it’s my turn to take a step back. “And I would have eaten you too. That thing in the cave, that is me. That is what I am. You really want that thing?”

  I meet his pained eyes, smiling cheek to cheek. “Yep. And it wants me.”

  He retreats from me and holds up his hands with a scoff. “No. I won’t let you do that to yourself. You deserve so much more than what I can give you. No.”

  “Will, my last ‘normal’ boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer. I’m thinking I’m gonna have to change my definition of that word.”

  He holds up his hands again. “Well, it’s a moot point anyway,” he says. “You’re quitting. I won’t accept any calls from you. I’ll—”

  “I’m not quitting.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not quitting.”

  He’s speechless and shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous. You said it yourself.”

  “So is crossing the street. So is everything. Will, I’m not normal. I never have been. There’s always been something a little off about me. There always will be. And when things go south, I’d rather have

  people who have my back around.”

  Will simply looks at me, defeated. “Don’t make this any harder. Please.”

  I take the final step. Our bodies almost touch as I gaze up at him. This particular dance is done; I’m taking the lead now. He refuses to look at me until I tilt his head down so our mouths are just inches apart.

  “This is what’s going to happen. I’m gonna take a month off to recover from my so-called holiday vacation. I’ll have elbow surgery, do PT, go to the movies, but when I have the all clear, I’m flying back to Kansas. No matter what. I don’t care if you’ve given my room away, I don’t care if you move the mansion to Sweden. I’m coming back. Because for the first time in my life, I have a chance to get what I want. What I dream about. What drives me crazy, in the best ways. What I know wants me back. In spite of everything.”

  Will’s eyes are locked on mine and his breath is coming faster now. Oh, this is fun.

  “So I am going to make it my mission to save him from himself, whether he likes it or not. And I have no doubt I will succeed, because I have the most powerful thing in this universe on my side.”

  “W-What is that?” he whispers, face full of scared confusion and undeniable heat.

  I press my lips against his softly, then harder. The kiss is so deep I can taste a part of his soul. Great. Toe-curling, choir-of-angels-in-the-background great. But just as he starts to kiss me back, I pull away, smiling mischievously. “You have a month to figure it out. I’ll be waiting.”

  With that, I turn my back on him and begin to saunter out, the present I brought him on the counter flying back into his hands. I glance over my shoulder and put a saucy smile on my face.

  “Merry Christmas, Will.” I wink. “And a very happy New Year.”

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  As always, I must first thank Sandy Lu at the L. Perkins Agency for sticking with me.

  Thanks to the Midnight Ink gang, especially Terri Bischoff and Nicole Nugent for correcting my many, many mistakes.

  Thanks to my beta readers Susan Dowis, Ginny Dowis, and Jill Kardell. I am honored to be descended from such kick-ass women who love to read.

  Thanks to Newport Beach Library, Huntington Beach Library, the Fairfax County libraries, and Prince William Libraries for giving me a place to go and work that isn’t my house.

  Thanks to all the people who read my books and follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, and read the Tales from the Darkside blog. You make this possible.

  Finally, I thank my wonderful family. I love you all more than words can say.

  About the Author

  © Bill Fitz-Patrick

  Jennifer Harlow (Manassas, VA) earned a BA from the University of Virginia in Psychology. Her eclectic work experience ranges from government investigator to radio DJ to lab assistant. She is also a member of Sisters in Crime.

  Visit her online at http://jenniferharlowbooks.com and http://blog.jenniferharlowbooks.com.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Information

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author