And now, to have her working with the dragons and me, back on her feet, with a cause of her own. Yeah. It felt pretty damned good. Especially since she had lost her lover, Misha. But she had adopted Misha’s daughters—Sonya and Aria—or the Reds, as they were most often called due to their type of dragon. The Reds were currently nuzzled up against their glass-dragon, and still-undefined, love-interest, Yahn, at the end of the table. Even though Tory had lost Misha, she now had a bigger immediate family than anyone would have ever expected. The Reds, Yahn, and a whole army of wayward shifters who all looked up to her as their mother.
Alvara was sitting beside Tory, watching Alice. The young girl was busy serving a plastic teacup to Ashley—who took it with a graceful dip of her head. Alvara wore a faint smile, and I couldn’t tell if it signified that she was dreading tomorrow or excited about it. I felt the same.
I had chosen Talon and Gunnar to come along with us.
I couldn’t afford to take anyone else because one of the main points was to focus on my memories and having to babysit a battalion of newbies as they entered the bizarre world of Fae—complete with the effects it had on new visitors, transforming them into more primitive, savage forms of themselves—was not conducive to me relaxing and trying to recall my past.
In all honesty, it was like I was going to a drug rehabilitation facility. Some peace and quiet in the chaotic mess of my life, hoping to find and establish some much-needed structure and order.
I left Alvara to her thoughts for now, promising myself I would talk to her after dinner. She was staying the night here, after all. I wanted to make sure she and Alice knew how to defend themselves. Because they were essentially fugitives in Fae, and if any natives found them there…I shuddered even thinking about it.
Gunnar and Talon would keep us safe as we stalked through Fae. As soon as I learned what I needed to know about being a Catalyst from Alvara’s friends, I could whisk them back to the human realm and then return to finish out my rehabilitation—which would climax with me killing Mordred, in a best-case scenario.
Worst-case, at least get an eye on his activities in Camelot. At the supposed armies he was amassing to take over all of Fae. Because he didn’t just want Camelot. He would come after St. Louis when he was finished digesting Fae.
I sighed, sipping my wine. Not tonight, I told myself. Plenty of that tomorrow. Tonight is for relaxing. Talon was likely still hiding, but Huginn and Muninn had given up and were now perched atop one of the china cabinets in the corner, watching us in silence with their beady, black eyes. I didn’t dislike them, but I didn’t quite trust them, either. Since they were Odin’s Ravens, tasked with watching the world for the one-eyed bastard, I couldn’t help but feel like we constantly had two drones hovering around, spying on us to report to Big Brother.
The two Ravens were depicted on my Crest and had informed me they were here for multiple reasons but hadn’t ever clarified that vague statement. I’d met Odin a handful of times, and he hadn’t clarified either. He’d also been a raging dick in the majority of those encounters, but insisted he was here to help me.
In the most infuriating ways possible.
Dean entered the room with a great big ham, setting it down on the center of the table. He nodded once at Alex, and the two began uncovering silver platters on the table, filling the room with steaming tendrils of both savory and sweet foods. A great feast. I marveled at how Dean managed it all, even now that I was used to it. He was no spring chicken.
The two of them filled up our plates, carrying the platters around the table for us to each choose what we wanted and didn’t. Once we were all loaded up with brimming glasses and heaping plates, Dean tapped his glass with a fork in a light chiming sound and cleared his throat.
This was my favorite part. He was about to tell everyone how awesome I was.
I prepared myself to appear properly humble and gracious for the ocean of compliments soon coming my way…
Chapter 7
Everyone settled into their chairs and waited for the chiming sound to fade away.
“Thank you for joining us,” Dean began, smiling genially. “You have all faced incredible trials and tribulations in recent years, some more than others. What matters in times like these is that you rise to the occasion after. Every war is eternal, and every day could be your last. Memento mori, my friends, memento mori.”
Like everyone else at the table, I found myself nodding my agreement, but I was slightly caught off-guard by the tone, topic, and insight Dean was preaching. Memento mori was a tribute to the Temple Crest, meaning remember you will die, so live life to the fullest—but it probably wasn’t the best opening statement. In his defense, he wasn’t much of a public speaker.
“Preparing this meal today brought back forgotten memories…of the laughter and celebration that often filled these halls. And the chaos,” he added, pausing to look directly at me. Everyone laughed, but I couldn’t tell if Dean smiled or not. He had an excellent poker face. “You have no room to laugh at Master Temple on that front, Gunnar,” Dean added, making Gunnar choke on his wine.
I grinned at my one-eyed pal, but more in memory of the trouble we used to get into than at his discomfort.
“I say all of that to tell you this. I believe it is past time we brought back an old Temple tradition. In times of chaos, like now, one needs order. This home needs order. This…family needs order,” he emphasized, smiling warmly.
I was still waiting on the heaps of praise part of the speech, but I was losing confidence as I picked up on Dean’s not-so-subtle comparison between us needing order and the reference to me causing chaos as a child.
“We need order to balance the insanity outside Falco’s arms. I know I’m ahead of the seasons, but I propose we bring back Yulemas—the celebration of the Winter Solstice. With Odin’s Ravens on the Temple family Crest,” he said, dipping his head politely at the bird brains, “it is no secret the Temple family has long respected a Norse tradition or two, even if they modified it slightly. I’m sure both Master Temple and Gunnar hold fond memories of past Yulemas holidays here at Chateau Falco,” he said, smiling slightly—basically the Norse equivalent of a Ho, Ho, Ho! on Dean’s usually stoic demeanor. “What I would like to do differently this year is open the doors to invite you to celebrate it with us.”
The Ravens began cawing loud enough to make me cringe. “Yulemas! Yulemas! Yulemas!”
Everyone at the table was smiling broadly, bobbing their heads to their horrid chorus. Even as they cast wary glances up at Huginn and Muninn, likely reminded that they were the actual Ravens of Odin—and that maybe they should have been celebrating Yulemas for quite some time, what with the obvious proof before their eyes.
I was more interested in the fact that Dean seemed so adamant to bring it back. Well, not back, per se, but to make it a big event, especially given that late Spring was a little early to consider planning such a celebration. As I thought about it, I realized it had been quite a while since we’d put up our Yule Goat decorations all over the mansion. And with how many people we currently had shacking up here on most occasions, they practically were all family already.
And it…was kind of sad not to celebrate with such a big family.
“Think of how we could fill these halls with laughter, cheer, and song,” Yahn said reverently, and…for the first time, I really thought about that.
It was…exciting.
Such a large home needed humans to fill it, and not just with their bodies, but with life. It was an utter waste to have such a vast, beautiful home and to only use it like a military barracks. I thought of Gunnar’s pack of werewolves, Tory’s students at Shift, and so many others attending a Yulemas party. And I began to stress right the hell out. That was a lot of fucking people.
Logistically, it was a nightmarish idea, but if we hired enough help…it would be the talk of the town. And a great opportunity to engage with all manner of people in hushed conversations. A way to bring the supernatural f
amilies together.
“There will be much to do,” Dean said slowly. He sensed the sudden dip of excitement and waved a hand. “I will take care of the planning, but there are other opportunities available…”
He looked directly at me with a kind smile—nostalgia brimming in his eyes. This had been my mother’s favorite time of year. After the family celebration, my father would always dress up like Odin—the Yule Father—and bestow presents upon us, as long as the naughty and nice list Huginn and Muninn had delivered to him included us in the appropriate column, of course.
Because Santa Claus had quite literally borrowed his holiday from the Norse.
Odin’s Ravens would watch the world throughout the year, compiling their evidence to judge who had been naughty and who had been nice. Odin would then ride Sleipnir—his eight-legged horse, not eight reindeer—to each home to deliver presents.
Odin’s elves and dwarves were straight outta Alfheim and Svartalfheim and ran the streets packing magical weapons and jewelry. Well, they made the magical, deadly weapons for the Norse gods and goddesses, but I had an overactive imagination as a child, connecting it with the infamous rap group, NWA—but changing the acronym to mean Norse With Attitude.
Look, Papa! I got an axe in my stocking! Time to kick those tights-clad pansies out of the Yule, fool! We rune these streets!
So, we had a blast pretending my father was the Yule Father—Odin—and he and my mother would play keep-away with the naughty and nice list that Huginn and Muninn had delivered to them. After, as Gunnar and I played with our new toys, my parents would sit down quietly by the fire, curled up on the couch, with Dean making sure we left them alone.
To think that I had now actually met Odin and his Ravens put a whole new perspective on the holiday. It made me wish I could tell my parents about it and watch my mother’s eyes light up with sheer joy. But…
That may never happen. Unless I brought my parents back with Anubis’ get-out-of-Hell-free cards—something I was seriously considering.
Dean had looked a little sad when he smiled at me. The same thought had probably crossed his mind, too—that my mother would have loved hearing about his plan.
It really was a great idea, though. I wondered how many kids we could cram inside Chateau Falco. Hell, I could donate so many toys that the kids would be ruined for Christmas forever. I could quite literally change some lives with a Yulemas party like this. Dean was really onto something magical here.
Why hadn’t I ever thought of it? Probably because I spent too much time focusing on fighting.
I also decided that I would treat Huginn and Muninn a lot better for the rest of the year. As long as they didn’t provoke me—which they often did on purpose.
Talon, I knew for a fact, was getting absolutely nothing from the Yule Father—if the Ravens had any say in the matter.
I’d get him some extra boxes of Fae catnip to make up for it.
Tory piped up, her voice full of raw emotion. “The kids at Shift…” she said, her voice growing throatier with each word. “I can almost guarantee that most have never had a Christmas in their lives, let alone a family to celebrate with. Coming to a party, invited in as family…” she began sobbing, and Alvara reached out to tuck her into her shoulder.
Alvara’s eyes were red with happy tears of her own, overcome with Dean’s idea. Alice was vibrating with so much excitement that it looked like she might be about to take off into space.
Gunnar and Ashley sat entirely still, murmuring softly to one another as they no doubt grew concerned, considering they had several-hundred pack members to worry about. Dean noticed and smiled. “I think it’s fairly apparent that wolves are a favorite of Odin. Don’t think you’ll be restricted to a limited number. In fact, you’ll be celebrated for bringing the largest addition to the family. And you two are quite literally part of the family already,” he said, indicating the runes branded into their wrists—the runes that marked them as family. I had given Ashley hers, but Gunnar had received his from my parents long ago to help control his shifting.
The pair smiled, dipping their heads gratefully.
“Who will dress up as the Yule Father?” Alice asked excitedly. It kind of caught me off guard, since she was pretty much the only one present who might have believed we really invited the Yule Father in, but her comment made me reconsider her age. She might look like a young-year-old, but she very likely could have been an old-year-old. Fae were strange like that.
Gunnar lowered his eye. “I don’t know if anyone could do better than Nate’s dad, Calvin.”
“Enough of that,” Dean chastised. “Every son must one day step into the role of his father, and none of them believe they are up to the task. But they all do just fine. To you, Calvin was the best. In his own eyes, he probably thought his father did it better.”
Gunnar nodded in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said, sounding entirely too affected by the mild reprimand. What was up with Gunnar? He was acting so strangely lately. What was going on with his pack to cause him this much stress?
“Master Temple will make his father proud,” Dean said, smiling reassuringly at me. Chateau Falco purred her approval around us, and the Ravens hopped about for a moment, ruffling their feathers with displeasure.
“That’s one vote,” Tory said, laughing despite her still-wet face.
Alice looked up wondrously at the ceiling, searching for the source of the rumble. “She’s beautiful…” she whispered. “And she sounds so happy.”
I blinked incredulously. “You can see her?”
Alice didn’t even look over at me, still grinning up at the ceiling. “Of course.” She turned to her mother, beaming. “This will be the greatest celebration ever!” she giggled, tucking her head into her mother’s bosom. Alvara gasped in a breath at the sudden hug but instantly clutched her daughter right back and petted her hair. She smiled as she no doubt envisioned the future party.
How long had it been since she’d had a family to celebrate with? Ever? They’d been banished from their homes—from Fae. But how long ago?
Already, it looked like Yulemas was about to change some lives. Dean ordered us to eat before our food grew cold and, for the first time in a very long time, I smiled as I saw him sit down with us. He usually hovered around the table, serving us, choosing to eat only after all the guests were finished and loaded with after-dinner refreshments. Or, more often than not, after everyone had left or gone to bed for the night.
He looked incredibly awkward eating with others all around him, and even took a deep breath before carefully picking up a knife and fork. He looked up at me and I lifted my glass subtly, no one else even noticing.
He smiled slightly, dipped his chin, and methodically began cutting into his ham.
“To Dean,” I said loudly, hoisting my glass.
The table belted out their agreement, and I could have sworn I saw Dean’s eyes mist up before he regained his composure.
When he wasn’t reprimanding me, Dean was one rock-solid guy.
I would forgive him for not waxing poetic about my awesomeness.
This time.
Chapter 8
The table chattered on through the meal, ideas thrown out left and right as we stuffed ourselves to the brim for about an hour. Talon wandered in at one point, and Alice instantly commanded him to sit beside her where she could keep an eye on him.
Everyone laughed at that, but since it was on the opposite side of the table from the Ravens, he hadn’t bothered arguing.
I watched everyone, pleased to see how much a simple idea had invigorated them all. Tory oh-so-innocently nominated Dean for Yule Father, saying I already had a hammer, and that it would be confusing, but she grinned at me near the end.
I had been preparing to flick a cranberry at her until Dean cleared his throat pointedly. I lowered my spoon catapult with a sigh. He couldn’t watch me all the time. Tory would pay.
Tory smiled suddenly, turning to look at me. “I can take
the Shift students caroling to get them in the spirit. It would also serve to scout the city and discreetly hand out invitations.”
Yahn piped up. “We can hire a delivery truck, fill it with toys and gifts, and deliver them around town.”
“We can be Odin’s little helpers,” Sonya said suggestively.
Alvara arched a brow at the dragon’s smoky tone but, as usual, Sonya had no idea how her words had come across. Aria just rolled her eyes at her sister. “It would also be good for the Round Table Initiative. Nate Temple and Grimm Tech delivering Christmas gifts around town might give them something else to focus on.”
Alex nodded. “It would help rebrand him from that stupid viral video with Mordred. Change the narrative. And it would serve two other purposes: the Freaks would see Nate honoring his people, being benevolent, making them more likely to side with him when Mordred returns, and the Regulars would see a good piece of news to focus on. Santa Temple. Or Temple Claus. Maybe Othello could help build some buzz with her internet magic?”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Othello is busy right now, but those are really good points.” It wasn’t common knowledge that Othello was on the beach with the boys, keeping the Biblical Horsemen as far from St. Louis as possible. Or that my ancestor, Matthias was with them. Thinking of Matthias, I wondered if he had ever played Yule Father. Because with him still kicking around, maybe I could weasel out of it. I sipped on my wine, considering how dangerous it was to ask a man who had once believed he was the Mad Hatter to pretend to be Odin, the Yule Father.
Probably not my greatest idea. I drank my wine and felt sorry for myself. I would have to dress up, damn it.
Dean stood and swept the table with his eyes, judging that we were ready for dessert. He returned a few moments later with a freaking sword and a large baked pie.
“What in the world?” I belted out, choking on my wine.
Dean handed the sword to Gunnar, who took it with shaking hands, his lips set in a determined line. The table went silent, everyone frowning in confusion. Especially at the grim look on Gunnar’s face. My skin began to itch, not liking this one bit.
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