Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales

by Laura Greenwood

  He’d do anything in his power to help her out. Not only because she was supposed to be his one-and-done, his ride-or-die, but because she’d had a poor shake of life and deserved something nice. Dhampirs were easily controlled because, unlike their full-blooded brethren, they fed on blood once a month and felt a bond of loyalty to the donor. Charlotte had once become an indentured servant of sorts to a coven master who manipulated that bond to keep her close for decades. The only reason she’d escaped from the situation was the man having need of stronger bodyguards.

  Charlotte fed from Armando now whenever the mood hit, and he let her do whatever she wanted. It was the right thing to do, the only way one should ever treat a dhampir. He wanted to put his fist through the throat of the coven master who’d treated her so poorly.

  Still wearing a vicious grin at the thought, he got out of the warm car and hunched himself over on the walk up the drive. It was freshly cleared of snow, so he hoped Izell was in. Her house was as non-pointed as possible, custom built to be rounded with numerous circular windows. On experience, he knew the rooms were wedge-shaped.

  If that didn’t scream that an ancient, box-hating fae lived there, the yard was also filled with statues of various mythical beasties and snow-covered topiaries, which she’d successfully started shaping into more of the same before the first frost hit.

  He wondered what Halloween was like in this neighborhood. Knowing Izell, she’d enchant her sculptures to groan and shift around in the spirit of the holidays.

  The door opened on the third knock, and Izell’s closest friend Jaromir answered. The man put a finger to his lips and let Armando in. Jaromir was one of the Blood Princes, an Ancient amongst vampires as one of the first. Maroon eyes defined his long face and pale features, marking his age. To contrast, he wore shorts and a t-shirt printed with a sun shining over cheerful beachgoers playing volleyball.

  Catching Armando’s expression, Jaromir smiled wide enough to show fangs. “It’s a nice place, even at night,” he whispered.

  “Isn’t Corpus Christi in Texas?” Armando whispered back, reading the small print on the shirt.

  Jaromir’s lips pulled in amusement. “Texas has the best rocks, according to Izell.”

  Grandma’s rasping voice called from another room, “You know I can hear you two, right?”

  “Sorry,” Jaromir called back. He didn’t sound too apologetic and instead beckoned to Armando.

  Courtesy of the circular house, there was a center room with angles like an octagon that usually served as the living room. The furniture and rugs were piled up around the edges, the bare wooden floorboards covered in glowing symbols and lit candles in a circle around Izell, who was sitting cross-legged in the center. The glow and flames all shone a golden yellow, the color of her magic.

  Izell herself was a study in gold in her fae form, which she only glamored to cover up her nature amongst humans and the vampires who still didn’t know fae existed. As an old astral fae, every inch of her skin was taken over by glimmering stars where she didn’t wear the sandstone scales of her dragon. Since she was also a shifter, she had a dragon’s whipcord tail wrapped around her lap and scales from the elbows down, with fingernails shaped like talons. Her eyes had no pupils, instead solid lenses of iridescent glitter set below an irritated scowl.

  “Do you know what day it is?” she demanded.

  “A, uh, bad day to bother you?” Armando ventured. He usually didn’t walk into a spell like this, especially something so intricate.

  “No, it’s December twenty-first,” she said, holding up a sharp claw. “As of midnight tonight.”

  He glanced to Jaromir, who was waiting with a patient expression. “December…oh,” Armando said. “Midwinter.”

  “The longest night of the year. The best day for astral fae…if I can get some peace and quiet to make a connection to Faerie,” she grumbled.

  “Sorry,” Jaromir repeated. “If you had told me you were attempting another ritual, I would’ve practiced on my pipes another time.”

  “The heat didn’t give it away?”

  “You’re half-dragon. I’m surprised your house hasn’t burned down yet.”

  “It’s enchanted. I wouldn’t live in a house that’s not fireproof.”

  Armando glanced between them, starting to shake his head slowly.

  “I wish you’d enchanted my pipes. That’s the second set you’ve melted,” Jaromir groused.

  She waved dismissively. “They sounded terrible anyway.”

  “That’s…probably because I was practicing.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult your playing,” Izell said. “It’s just, I would appreciate that when you get new pipes, you’ll practice them somewhere else.”

  Armando cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping you could help me with something,” he said to Izell, who set her mouth in a stern line.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Can you help me find Charlotte’s father? Like, with your magic?” He had his heart in his throat as she considered.

  She glanced down at a rune on the floor, tracing the edge of its glowing surface. “I’m sure I can,” she said. “But I require something in return.”

  Biting his tongue, he kept from answering. Bargains with fae, even innocent ones, always came with a price that needed to be fulfilled to the full extent of the wording. It was just how their magic worked.

  She rattled off a vague address. “I need you to go into the mauve box store and retrieve for me an extra-large Sophia in rose.”

  “Um…”

  “Don’t worry if they don’t have that one specifically. Just bring me something from that store that fits me, and I’ll consider your half of the bargain fulfilled,” she interrupted with an impatient gesture. “Get Julian or something. He’s good at tracking things down.”

  “That’s people. He tracks people,” he pointed out. But because she’d mentioned him, he’d still somehow rope his uncle along.

  “Go get it, then. Don’t come back until tomorrow,” she said.

  He saluted. “Yes, ma’am! One extra-large Sophia in rose from the…what kind of store?”

  “Mauve box store,” she repeated.

  “But…what is mauve?”

  “A color, you twit!”

  Yeah, whatever. He’d figure it out. Hopefully.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte

  She headed toward Izell’s circular house sometime before dawn, unconcerned that the sun may rise while she tried to speak to Grandma of her predicament. Charlotte had called in reinforcements in her two friends, Violet and Olivia. They’d all joined Coven Rehnquist at about the same time. While Charlotte was a thirty-something at heart, her two friends were literal thirty-somethings, young enough to be a rarity in vampire society.

  Violet, a petite blonde, sat up front, fiddling with the clockwork gears of a fae-made magical tool called an occultarus. She’d decided to decorate hers like something out of a steampunk fantasy, with gears of variable sizes powering a set of copper butterfly wings that gave the shining orb the illusion that it flew on its own rather than by magic.

  “Think she’s in a good mood today?” she asked, her eyes flashing silver from a streetlamp. Violet was a Sorceress vampire, a rare cross between vampirism and fae blood that let her wield magic and use occultari. As powerful as that made her, one wouldn’t know it when she’d bundled herself up in enough layers to resemble a marshmallow. Someone didn’t do so well in the cold.

  “Pfft. No,” Charlotte laughed.

  Olivia rested her head on the side of Violet’s chair. “She’ll change her mind the moment she sees us three good looking ladies at her door. It’s hard to be mad when you look at us.”

  It was hard to even be annoyed with the woman in the backseat. She had a goofy, carefree grin, just a lady happy to be alive. Charlotte liked that vibe, even though she’d pulled her best friend’s behind out of danger several times before Olivia had met and mated to a no-nonsense
kind of man to take that job off her hands. Her mate Julian had learned to smile in the year they’d been together. And Olivia, well, she could be serious. Sometimes.

  “Plus, if she doesn’t help, then Violet and I have to figure out a tracking spell or potion. It’s, like, her job to make sure we don’t go off half-cocked,” Olivia added.

  “I don’t think I agreed to that,” Violet protested.

  “Relax, Flowers, that’s plan H. H for half—”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Violet blushed a steely color from her silvery-hued blood. Getting a nickname in their circle was a compliment; she just got flustered each time hers came up.

  Charlotte parked the car, seeing tracks on the drive from another car that’d been there. It wouldn’t surprise her if Armando had already come and gone, but she was going to try greasing the wheel too. If the sun came out while they spoke, Violet could make portals to take her and Olivia back to their respective homes, no harm done. While, as a dhampir, the sun didn’t harm her. Small perks.

  She went up to the porch, where Jaromir stood looking bored. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and a moment later, Violet cried out in alarm.

  Charlotte jumped and shot a look over her shoulder to see Olivia holding a particularly ugly and misshapen statue with bat wings and a scorpion’s tail at eye level. “I swear she gets new ones every time,” she was saying.

  Jaromir held a finger to his lips with a sigh. “That’s a manticore. And if you want to go inside, no loud noises,” he whispered.

  “Sorry,” Violet said, her gloved hands in her puffy jacket’s armpits as she shivered despite her layers.

  “Jerry, is this enchanted?” Olivia asked, holding the statue by its tail as she inspected its underside.

  Even a year ago, Charlotte would’ve had something to say about her calling a very ancient, very powerful vampire by anything but his actual name. But time had softened the guy, she thought. He seemed like a Jerry to her too.

  “Yes, actually. Izell filled the tail with real manticore venom and sharpened the tail tip.” He started to grin when she went still and eyed the spine a few inches from her arm. “I’d put that down before it senses you disturbed it.”

  Olivia went off to gingerly place it back on the ground, whispering profuse apologies. “It’s not really enchanted,” Jaromir confided while she was distracted.

  “I figured,” Charlotte murmured back.

  Minutes later, the pressure in the air increased to a crescendo that left goosebumps all over Charlotte. She pulled her wool cap further over her ears. The feeling faded as Izell’s voice hollered, muffled, from inside the house. “Finally!”

  The three women exchanged a glance. The door flung open. Izell’s silhouette stood in the threshold, smoke billowing from her singed hair. Her glimmering eyes took them in as she grinned. “The way’s open,” she announced before pointing a hooked claw at Charlotte. “Why are you here?”

  She opened her mouth to ask after her father, but Izell just kept talking. “Never mind, you’re here for the same thing as Armando, right? I’ve been expecting you. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Come with you?” Charlotte asked.

  “Come with me to Faerie. You’re all invited. It’s midwinter! The longest night of the year.” The fae seemed almost…giddy, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she spoke. “My people hold the Astral Light Festival all night to commemorate our victory over darkness when the new sun rises.”

  “It’s fae Christmas,” Jaromir whispered behind his hand. He was smiling over at Izell openly, catching her excitement and reflecting it in his own gentle way.

  “Well…” This wasn’t why they’d come to see her, and Charlotte couldn’t think of how it’d help.

  Olivia shuffled over to nudge Charlotte. “Are there things we could buy there?” she asked. “Like, fancy fae things?”

  Charlotte held her breath, remembering that Armando had wanted something cool and enchanted. And neither of her friends were exactly satisfied with what they’d purchased for their mates.

  Izell’s eyes held a sly glint. “Of course,” she said, gesturing the group inside. As Charlotte walked in last, the old fae grasped her shoulder. “As for your request…”

  “My father?” she asked, earning a nod.

  “There’s a fortuneteller who always attends the festival. Rumor says she has the power to make real desires come true,” Izell said.

  She leaned in, immediately and intensely interested. If she required magical intervention to find her father and end the mystery of his disappearance, she’d take it. But there was an obvious “but” lurking in Izell’s tone. “What’s the catch?” she asked.

  “Well, she requires you tell her one of your deepest secrets before sharing your fortune. That’s the currency of the festival—secrets. Start thinking of what you’re willing to tell, as true secrets are always more valuable than the secrets multiple people know.”

  Typical fae, Charlotte thought as she followed her inside and to a portal suspended in the middle of the house. The rip in reality pulsed with magic, currently clear and straight as a mirror, showing a snowy clearing on the other side. It was still nighttime over there, even though Faerie operated on different time than Earth.

  They had a great view of a cluster of pines strung with multicolor lights. An adult fae ran by the portal’s view, chased by a group of wingless fae kids obviously giggling as they lobbed snowballs at him.

  “Looks like a great time!” Olivia announced, but her gaze was on Izell instead of heading through immediately.

  “We should have a few hours there. The bridge between Earth and Faerie collapses when the sun rises, so don’t get too lost,” Izell said with a dismissive wave. “This is a Seelie festival; you should be fine. Go have fun.”

  Olivia didn’t need any more encouragement, heading through with an eager smile. “Should be?” Violet said, watching her go.

  “Should be,” the fae repeated, grabbing Jaromir’s hand and plunging into the portal next.

  Charlotte pushed Violet through when she hesitated. “C’mon, Flowers, live a little,” she teased a split second later. Traveling through a portal was a quick plunge into cold darkness. Charlotte always shut her eyes tightly when using one, else she’d have a belly full of nausea from the sudden shift in air pressure and location between one step and the next.

  Faerie was said to be a place of great beauty, but she was still stunned as she took in the view. It was like she’d walked into a perfectly saturated photo of a snowy wood, except every pine and bush was lined with lanterns and multicolored floating orbs of light. A velvety curtain of darkness lay overhead, full of crushed diamond stars.

  She spotted streamers and brightly painted tents through the woods, where the sound of live music drifted from, punctuated by the happy cries of children. What’d caught her attention the most was the scent of warm nutmeg and cinnamon, hopefully from baked goods. Her belly rumbled quietly at the thought.

  Her friends were already headed toward the festival, so she took a moment to crouch down and form two snowballs.

  “Hey, Olive!” she called. Olivia turned, wearing a smile of wonder. Charlotte pelted her across the face with perfect aim, one snowball after another.

  “Oh, it is on!”

  They traded volleys of snow as Violet watched, holding her occultarus and standing out of range. Any errant snowballs that went her way melted from a shield of warm air she’d cast around herself. Charlotte focused on assailing the other woman instead, giggling like a schoolgirl as her stress melted away for a few blissful minutes.

  She even laughed when the snow around her leapt up and heaped upon her and Olivia in a mini avalanche. Violet’s hand was still glowing as she said, “I win!” Booking it toward the festival, the Sorceress laughed as she dodged a salvo of snowballs.

  Chapter 4

  Armando

  “Run it by me again. What are we looking for?” Julian Fairfax asked from the driver’s side as they
cruised downtown.

  It was weird to have him driving. That was always Armando’s role when they were patrolling partners. But now his eyes were peeled as he looked for… “A mauve-colored store,” he said, pointing out one boutique amongst many. “Does that look mauve to you?”

  Julian slowed the vehicle, and they stared at the building’s façade intently. It didn’t help that the location Izell had shared encompassed several blocks of specialized boutiques and quirky stores.

  “It could be,” he said after a pause. “Eventually, you’ll just have to go into a store and try your luck.”

  They both looked down at Armando’s phone, where he’d pulled up an Internet search of “mauve” just to find that it included several shades somewhere in the range of pink, purple, or gray.

  “She’s a woman; she’d want you to go to a pink store,” Julian said.

  “You sure, though? It’s Izell. She’s more of a gray kind of lady to me.”

  “Or she’d want you to go to the opposite of what you’re thinking.” They shared a bemused glance.

  Armando sighed. “Let’s do another loop. Maybe we missed something obvious.” He had another reason for the suggestion. It looked like his uncle was chewing on a thought. Julian was one to overthink, so Armando waited, mostly patient, for what was bothering him. Considering he’d dragged Julian from his home right after nightfall, it was big, whatever it was.

  He took another sip of coffee as he scanned the buildings. They blurred together, part of the cityscape he’d seen thousands of times. He knew he should’ve asked Izell for more details. But it wasn’t completely her fault—he had barely slept with a head full of warring anxiety and excitement.

  “So, what did you get Olivia for Christmas, man?” he asked when he couldn’t stand the silence between them any longer.

  “A ring.”

  “Oh, neat, going for some shine, hmm? Chicks dig a little flash,” he said, flipping his hand.