by Kaje Harper
Silas felt Darien’s lips brush his neck. “This thing you do is really good.”
“Sometimes.” He turned enough to cup Darien’s chin and take a real kiss. “Time to get back before we’re… what did Grim say? Corpsicles?”
“Yeah, I’d rather not lose any toes. Can we run?”
Silas grabbed Darien’s hand, a tide of unexpected joy rising up in him. “Sure. Why not? Come on.”
The dash through the Veil was like nothing Silas had ever experienced. Despite the throb in his head, he powered the runes so easily that the fog seemed to almost rip apart in front of them. Three leaping strides, with Darien at his side, and their bodies stood ahead of them. He snapped back into reality so hard he almost fell. At his side, Darien shuddered and then laughed.
“All quiet, Grim?” Silas asked.
“Someone came in the open gate, but I sent Pip to lure them away with a lost puppy act.”
Darien glanced around. “Where is he?”
“Should be coming back… there.”
The little blob of Pip’s dark face became visible against the snow down by the cemetery road, then Silas could make out his form, trotting calmly toward them. Darien kicked the circle open and hurried his familiar’s way. “Pip. You’re okay?”
The pup’s voice floated back in the thin air. “They said I’d get a liver treat, but I didn’t let them catch me. Do we have liver treats at home? I want to taste one.”
Silas stamped circulation back into his numb feet and followed. At his side, Grim murmured, “Might have to buy some liver treats. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the kid.”
Silas chuckled. “One would almost think you like him.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Grim rose on his hind legs to pat at Silas’s thigh, and he felt just a prickle of clawtips. “Now pick me up and get us home. We’re all going to be thawing out for hours. I hope you have plans for a nice hot dinner for all of us.”
Silas scooped Grim to his shoulders, as the youngsters ahead sprinted to the car. “Vegetable-beef soup in the fridge, ready to heat.”
“Adequate,” Grim said, settling around his neck.
Despite the pain of the power rebound echoing in his head, and the pins-and-needles of his toes, Silas reflected that his life was a whole lot more than just adequate these days.
Chapter 6
Darien gazed out at the sunny street, the afternoon of Christmas Eve, watching… something. Not waiting for the mail, of course. He’d only written to his dad a week ago. Yeah, he’d sent the letter airmail— one more thing I’ll pay Silas back for when our poltergeist-removal check cashes— but unless his father knew a teleporting sorcerer, there was no way Darien would get an answer back yet.
Down by the road, the mail truck chugged up the last of the hill, passed their box, and headed away without stopping.
Of course not.
“You could call him.” Silas’s hand on his shoulder made him jump.
“I’m not—” Except of course he was.
“What did you tell him in your letter?”
“Your address, phone number.”
“Our address.”
“Yeah.” The night after they’d released Joshua’s ghost, as they lay in bed trying to warm the last chills from their entwined feet, Silas had whispered, “You’re here to stay, right? You don’t want to leave?” Darien had asked, “What brought that on?” Silas had closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Darien’s neck. “Joshua felt so lonely…” Darien had stroked the dark, rough hair against his shoulder, aching a little for how deeply Silas felt things and how little he showed those feelings until they were here, alone and safe in the dark. “Not going anywhere,” he’d said. “I promise.”
Silas’s emphasis on Our address was a reminder of the connection they both felt. Not that I mentioned that to Dad in my stupid letter. Darien couldn’t seem to turn away from the window. “I expect he’ll write back eventually.”
Silas murmured, “Did you tell him you’d left school?”
“I told him I’d taken a break.” He still wasn’t sure what the future might hold, although going back to college and his classmates, suddenly looking fifteen years older, might be a problem. “I told him I was busy with some new kinds of studying.” He tried a joke. “I didn’t tell him my favorite subject was a detailed analysis of your dick and what it likes.”
“And yet, I highly endorse that line of investigation.” Silas moved closer, warm against Darien’s shoulder, chin in his hair.
Darien snorted. “Yep. You don’t mind expanding my experiments to your ass, either.”
“Another excellent field of study.” Silas stiffened behind him. “What’s that?”
A truck had chugged up the hill with a big Christmas tree on the load bed. Now, the driver pulled over to the curb at the foot of their property. Silas stepped away from Darien’s shoulder, as the cab door opened.
“That’s Stevenson,” Darien recognized. They hadn’t gone back to the lot, but the Guild reported Stevenson had been satisfied and paid the fee, and even insisted on the bonus. “I wonder what he wants.”
Stevenson tugged his cap down on his head and came up their front path.
“I guess we’ll find out.” Silas strode out toward the door, leaving Darien to follow him.
The doorbell had barely chimed when Silas opened the door. Darien spotted him subtly pushing extra power into the house wards and moved up at his shoulder, raising his own shields. Does he get disgruntled clients? One more thing to ask sometime.
Stevenson was smiling, though. “Hey there, I don’t know what you fellas did but I want to thank you. Not just lot 17, but all my business picked up. Folks are happy, upgrading to bigger trees, adding wreaths. This has been my best week ever.”
“Um. That’s good to hear,” Silas said cautiously.
Darien couldn’t imagine how they’d made that kind of difference, but perhaps the ghost’s aura had extended over the whole lot? He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“So, I thought…” Stevenson gestured to his truck. “Season’s about done, and I had a real nice ten-footer left. Your address was easy to find, and I thought maybe you might like to have it. No charge. As a thank you.”
Silas glanced over his shoulder at Darien, although Darien couldn’t see any downside.
They hadn’t gotten around to much of the holiday decorating Darien had hoped for. There’d been a problem with the water heater, and then several roof leaks revealed by the melting snow that they’d had to set buckets under. Finding repairmen available so close to the holidays had been a challenge.
They had squeezed in a trip to Clarice’s yesterday, to pick up a Christmas cake she’d made for them and exchange holiday greetings and a bottle of brandy with Jasper, but then time got away from them.
Not completely. They’d hung a wreath on the front door and put a beef roast in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner. Darien had used his ghoul-case bounty to buy a pair of silk pajamas without stupid stripes to give to Silas on Christmas Day. Silas— sweet man that he was, however much he denied it— had stayed up late baking a batch of gingerbread men, while Darien ate the failures. So he’d decided to be content with that degree of holiday spirit.
But a free Christmas tree? Delivered to their door? “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Stevenson,” he said, before Silas could say no.
“We don’t have a stand,” Silas hedged.
“I’ll throw one in. With a string of lights, since I don’t need most of ’em now. Brought those along in case.” Stevenson tilted his head, as if sensing reluctance from Silas. “I can cut the tree down small as you want. Not many folks can fit a ten, so I figured I’d be cutting it to size.”
“I bet we can fit ten feet!” A joyous laugh bubbled in Darien’s chest. “The foyer by the staircase is two stories high.”
“I suppose so.” Silas’s eyes darkened, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Yes, of course
, if you like.”
Stevenson said, “If you fellas want to give me a hand, we can bring it on in.”
“Yes, please.” Darien grabbed his boots off the tray.
Silas said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Give us a moment to get dressed.”
“I’ll go untie your tree from the truck.”
When Stevenson was out of earshot Silas murmured, “A ten-foot tree? Really?”
“Why not, Si? You have the space.”
“We have the space… and I suppose such a display is the epitome of holiday spirit. I did promise you a real Christmas.”
“It’s the evergreen icing on my Christmas cake.” Darien thumped him cheerfully on the shoulder, and tugged on his coat.
They used some lifting and maneuvering, and a few aborted swear words, to get the tree in the door, down the hallway, and upright in the space beside the front stairs. Stevenson tightened the last screw in the holder at the base and peered up. “Fits like a charm. You might want to tie the top to the banister. Just for safety, like. Specially if that big cat of yours tries to climb it.”
From the top of the staircase, Grim yawned innocently.
Stevenson handed Darien a paper grocery sack. “There’s the lights. Although stringing them will be a bit of a trick. Still, Merry Christmas to you both.”
Darien shook his outstretched hand, shields safely pulled down under his skin. “Thanks so much. Merry Christmas to you too.”
“I’ll show you out,” Silas said, leading Stevenson off.
Darien gazed up at the tree. He heard Stevenson laugh and say something about “more stuff on heaven and Earth, I guess,” as Silas showed him out and shut the door.
Silas returned, his steps quieter back in his slippers. “There’s snowmelt and pine needles all over that hallway, and I don’t see how you’ll string the lights.”
“Don’t be a Grinch.”
“A what?”
Darien laughed. “It’s a new kids’ book. One of the guys at school brought back a copy last year. His little sister got three of them. The Grinch is this grumpy character sitting up on a hill souring the Christmas fun for the little folk below.”
Silas frowned. “Am I souring your Christmas?”
Darien wrapped his arms around him. “This is lining up to be my best Christmas in years. Even with your bah, humbug.”
“I have read A Christmas Carol.”
“Of course you have.” Darien had a sudden thought. “Do you think Dickens was a necromancer? I mean, the ghosts of Christmas, right? Or a sorcerer, maybe, tweaking the nose of some necromancer friend by turning him into Ebenezer Scrooge?”
Silas chuckled. “I doubt it. I suppose you could ask the London Guild. They would know if someone that prominent was a member.”
“After the holidays, maybe.” Now that the thought had ambushed him, Darien had to admit he was curious. Later. “Right now, I want to enjoy our holiday. And string lights on the tree.” He hugged Silas and let go. “Do you think if I dangled them from the banister, you could walk around and around the tree with the other end?”
“I think I can dangle them,” Silas said. “While you try to duck under the branches and slip on the needles and wrangle the cord.”
“That works too.” He had no problem doing the fun part. “I’ll clean the floor afterward.”
Silas laid a hand on Darien’s cheek. “We’ll clean the floor. I’d do far more than sweep up pine needles to make you happy.”
The tightness of Darien’s throat needed a snappy reply. “Like buy me a vacuum?”
“I admit, that’s not what I purchased for your gift.”
Darien shoved him. “A good thing, too. Romance is not dead. Go dangle those lights.”
By the time the tree was set up, with a scattering of colored bulbs, some bows of red ribbon on the lower branches, and a frosting of white paper stars Darien had dumped in a cascade from above, their decorating looked— all right, perhaps not amazing, but it did look festive. The house smelled of fresh pine and holiday spirit, not incense and curry or stale dorm room odors. The effect was, in a word, and mostly to mess with Silas, “Fab! Far out!”
“What?” Silas’s lips twitched.
Darien laughed. “To you squares, that means it’s great.”
“And what are you, a circle?”
Darien’s chest felt tight, like his body couldn’t hold everything he was feeling. He wanted to dance and laugh and hug Silas, and for some reason, cry. Instead, he told Silas, “I love this tree. But next year, we’re taking time to buy some ornaments and a star for the top.” Then he held his breath because “next Christmas we will—” was the most specific he’d gotten yet about their future.
Silas didn’t laugh at him, but an odd expression crossed his face. “About that…” He turned and strode off down the hall toward his study.
Darien’s heart fell. What did I say? Silas had been the one to say forever first, so surely he didn’t object to that. Maybe he didn’t like the idea that Darien would be imposing his Christian holidays on the household every year? He didn’t need a tree, if Silas hated it. He blinked hard, the lights fuzzing into refracted colors.
Pip skidded into view from the kitchen and slid to a stop. “I smelled something good! There’s a forest in here! So big.”
Despite everything, Darien had to smile. “Just one tree. But yeah, it’s tall. Where were you?” Grim had supervised the setting up and then vanished, but he hadn’t seen Pip since lunch.
“Grim showed me where the rats live in the other wing. I chased a lot of them.”
“Did you catch any? Don’t let them bite you.” Some of the rodents lurking in the less-used parts of the huge house were as big as Pip.
“I chased them a lot. They were scared. Maybe they’ll move out. Grim said I couldn’t Fetch them. It’s not sporting.”
“Might scare them even more, though.”
“That’s what I said.” Pip glanced over his shoulder to where Grim had strolled into view. “Darien says I can Fetch rats to scare them.”
“Well, if you want to stop sharpening your body’s physical skills.” Grim came to Darien’s feet and turned to run his gaze over the tree. “It’s still standing and partially lit. What does Silas think?”
Darien looked up at the pathetically-decorated tree, but before he could come up with an answer, Silas said from behind him, “I found something. If you want it.”
Darien turned around.
Silas held out his hand, a shimmering glass and pewter star spanning his palm. “Old Vickery had a collection of glass that I put away in a box when I cleared his desk. I remembered this one. The design’s not meant for a tree, but it might serve?”
He brought me a star. Darien blinked hard and reached for the ornament. “That’s pretty.” Although coming out of one of Vickery’s collections… He tried to peer at the star with his power engaged before touching it. “It’s not magical, right?” His Othersight was a work in progress.
“Not as far as I can tell.”
Grim rose on his hind legs to sniff at Silas’s hand. “Just glass. A plaything. Now, I’m willing to pay good money to see you get that bauble up there.”
“Ah.” Silas rubbed the back of his head. “That is a conundrum.”
Darien turned the ornament in his fingers, watching the glittering facets catch the sparks of colored light. He could drop it on the treetop from the landing, like the paper stars, but the littered floor held proof that not everything landed safely. “Do you have a ladder, Si?”
“I don’t know how to Move things yet,” Pip said. “Maybe I could get behind the top of the tree and Fetch? Somehow?”
Grim sniffed. “Some things require a cat.” He snagged Darien’s wrist with a paw and tugged his hand down. The star glittered as Grim took one pewter ray in his mouth. Heading under the tree, the cat put his front paws on the lowest branch near the trunk.
Darien held his breath as Grim flowed up the ladder of branches, each step smoo
th as water over rocks. When the big cat neared the top, he slowed. The tree began to bend and sway slightly. Carefully craning his neck up to the last spray of small branches, Grim nestled the star in the center, then eased his way back down. At the bottom he leaped to the floor with a solid thump. The tree jiggled, a light from the dusty chandelier refracting off the star, but nothing fell. The star’s crystal heart steadied to a glow.
Grim batted a fallen scrap of paper across the hall. “A climbing tree indoors has its merits. That, gentlemen, is how you get a star to the top.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Darien said. “And Silas—” His voice caught.
“Yes?”
“You’re not just humoring me? I mean, you don’t hate all the Christmasness?”
“Not a bit.” Silas looked up at the star. “You know, I studied with Harrowsmith from the time I was fourteen. Formally apprenticed at fifteen, moved in with him at eighteen. He made it part of my education to disconnect me from my mundane past. The Guild and its purposes and the truths of magic and practice were what mattered. Ordinary humans all lived in an illusion, blind to so much of the world’s truth.” He reached out and touched a green branch. “I’m never going to be a Christian again, but there are a lot of good memories I set aside. So no, I don’t mind a Christmas tree.”
Darien had decided the tone of Silas’s voice meant he needed a hug when, off in the kitchen, the phone rang.
Silas startled. “I should get that.” He hurried to answer it, and Darien trailed along behind.
“Thornwood residence,” Silas said into the receiver as Darien reached the kitchen. Then Silas raised his head sharply and turned to Darien. “Yes. I’ll ask.” He set his hand firmly over the mouthpiece. “Do you want to talk to him? It’s your father.”
“My—” A pang of loss followed by a wave of nausea cramped Darien’s stomach. He grabbed the back of a chair. “I… yes.” Don’t be a wuss, Darien Green. Still, he needed several breaths to unglue his feet from the floor and cross the six feet of tiled floor. Silas handed him the receiver and backed off one step, his face anxious.