Merry & Bright: A Christmas Anthology (Nocturne Falls Universe)

by Fiona Roarke

  The too-hot mug of chocolate wobbled in a slow circle before it finally tipped, splashing dark liquid all over the papers.

  There was a moment of terrible silence before the bubble burst.

  The toddler screamed. The mother began to repeat, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Oh my gosh” over and over And the baby, disturbed by the panic, began to wail.

  His elf just sat there in shock, all the color leached from her face as the paper soaked up the chocolate.

  No.

  Nope.

  This wasn’t happening.

  Elin Bergstrom’s traumatized brain flashed back to an old Reese’s commercial. “Get your novel out of my chocolate! No, get your chocolate out of my novel!”

  The noise penetrated her thoughts first. So. Much. Crying.

  Children cried when they got upset. She understood that. But did it have to be at that decibel level? Trained sopranos couldn’t hit those notes. And the woman in front of her kept repeating the same words like a mantra, clutching a giant bag to her body as her children shrieked.

  They were not going to be any help at all.

  Instead, the dark giant who’d caught her eye months ago, was up and moving. He grabbed a roll of paper towels from the barista and started wiping up the sea of chocolate that seeped into her papers. Her novel. Her chocolate covered novel with the ruined paper center.

  He didn’t say a word, which was good because she couldn’t have heard him over the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of baby teeth coming from both children and mother.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Chocolate and coffee from all over the shop, the shot of peppermint she liked to add to her cocoa, the smell of paper and ink, and warm animal. Dog.

  Growing up with sled dogs, some of her fondest childhood memories were of falling asleep in a pile of warm huskies. But since it was coming from the man in front of her, still quietly stemming the tide of cocoa, she had to figure him for some breed of werewolf.

  She’d always thought werewolves were sexy.

  Elin opened her eyes and was immediately caught in a gaze as icy blue as any winter elf’s.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re very welcome.” His voice was shockingly deep and warm, with an intriguing hint of an accent. She’d have liked to listen more, but the babies were still shrieking.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?” Elin didn’t have children, but she would be genuinely horrified if the little screamers had actually been injured by her spilled drink.

  “We’re fine. No one’s hurt, but I’m so sorry,” said the harried mom, on the verge of tears herself. “I didn’t realize the bag would swing so wide.”

  “It’s just some paper.” Elin smiled and clenched her fist as she lied through her teeth. It wasn’t just paper. It was the last year and a half of work, finally printed out for editing. She’d been working all weekend, marking up gaps and mistakes and flaws with her red pen, and she was nearly halfway through the very first science fiction novel she’d ever finished.

  “Just some paper,” she repeated. “You’re sure everyone is all right? The chocolate was pretty hot. Anyone splashed or burned?”

  Anyone other than her, because the shock had finally worn off and she could feel a slight, stinging burn through the wool of her trousers that was quickly cooling into unpleasant dampness.

  She stood and pulled her sweater down to hide most of the stain. Luckily, she’d worn the tunic-length sweater with the light-up Christmas tree on it. She hit the button on her collar that made the sewn-in lights twinkle, and immediately, the shrieking stopped.

  Mom lifted the baby from the stroller and swayed a bit to soothe it, and Elin offered to hang the huge diaper bag from the handles to get the dangerous weapon out of the way. Then she pulled a peppermint stick from her own bag, unwrapped it, and offered it to the toddler clinging to his mother’s leg. He’d quit bawling, but his cheeks were blotchy and tear stained and he rubbed his sticky nose on Mom’s jeans.

  He glared at her as if she was the cause of the chaos, but relented enough to grab the candy and jam it in his mouth.

  “Say thank you, Danny.”

  The kid glared at her some more.

  Elin kept the smile glued to her face until they moved on, Mom scurrying out of the shop while everyone gave her a wide berth. Finally, she blew out a big breath and let her shoulders slump.

  The giant had finished mopping up the table while she dealt with the family, and was wiping off his hands.

  They both stared down at the sodden mess of her edits.

  “Can you save them?” he asked in that wonderfully deep voice.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged and tried to crush the gaspy feeling that always came before a sob.

  “Are you all right?”

  Elin nodded. She didn’t trust her voice anymore, and she couldn’t get her thoughts organized enough to know what to do next.

  “Hey.” He stood closer now and he smelled wonderful. Like chocolate and coffee and warm spices and dog. She wanted to huddle into that luscious scent and not come out until Christmas. But he was a total stranger.

  He opened his arms and she walked right into them.

  Some part of her brain tried to ring an alarm bell, but she ignored it. Yes, this had “inappropriate” written all over it, but Elin needed a hug, and this man with his broad shoulders and delicious smell who had helped clean up her mess was offering.

  She closed her eyes and leaned in as his arms closed around her. Not too tight, not too loose, and without a second’s hesitation.

  With her eyes closed, Elin buried her face in his dark gray sweater and let her senses take over. His heart beat strong and steady and a little fast, but his breathing was deep and even. His body radiated heat, and she rubbed his sweater with her cheek, enjoying the softness of cashmere on her skin.

  “You smell like peppermint.” His breath moved her hair and it tickled.

  But that was no excuse for what came out of her mouth. “You smell like coffee and dog.”

  He stilled, and in a wild leap, she pushed back. “Oh no, wait. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s not how it sounded. It’s good. I like those smells.”

  Awesome. Babbling. Forty-six years old and she was babbling. Heat washed over her face and down her neck, and she knew she was blushing in swaths of bright red.

  This day couldn’t get any worse.

  “I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t bear to look at him. “Thank you so much for all your help. I really appreciate it.” She shoved a pile of papers into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I… I have to leave now. Work. Right. Leaving now. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

  Elin hauled the bag over her shoulder and practically ran for the door, hoping only that she wouldn’t trip on the way out.

  If he called after her, she didn’t hear him over the sound of her own mortification.

  Chapter Two

  When a woman rubbing her cheek against your chest tells you that you smell like a dog, it’s time to reconsider your life choices.

  And your brand of deodorant.

  Dima stood in the middle of the coffee shop, his arms aching with emptiness, and watched his winter elf run away.

  Never run from a werewolf. It just makes him want to chase.

  He took the first long step of the hunt, when a flutter caught his eye. She’d only grabbed the stack without any markings. The thick pile of papers soaked with chocolate and red ink still sat atop the little cafe table.

  A predator’s grin stretched his mouth.

  “Wolves of Fenrir by Elin Bergstrom.”

  The title caught his interest almost as much as the author’s name. This was going to be easier than he thought.

  He gathered up the wet pages carefully, then strolled back to his slightly shabby apartment, nodding to his neighbors as he went in. He pulled out the drying line he’d hung on his kitchen wall and stretched it to the hook on the other side of the living area. Then he got
out his basket of mostly unused clothespins and a hair dryer, and got to work.

  Two hours later, the pages were mostly dry. A couple were probably unsalvageable, but for the most part, the cocoa had dried and flaked off, leaving the wrinkled pages light brown and chocolate scented, but legible.

  And they were good. He hadn’t meant to start reading, but the first page had drawn him in. Even with the red marks and arrows and margin notes, he was completely absorbed by the story and the characters. The futuristic, science-fiction world she had built with her words was astonishing in its detail.

  He needed to find her, if only to get the rest of this story.

  Dima showered again, put on a different deodorant, and set off for Santa’s Workshop, the Christmas shop where most of the winter elves in town worked.

  He deftly avoided the sales-elves who asked, “How can I help you?” relentlessly at anyone who might accidentally make eye contact. Finally, he made it to the back of the store and found someone he recognized. Jayne Frost, an occasional guest at Insomnia, was in conversation with an earnest looking elf carrying a tablet, but she broke off when she saw him.

  “Dima! How’s my favorite bouncer?”

  “Doorman, Ms Frost. I’m fine, and you?”

  “It’s almost Christmas Eve. Couldn’t be better. You look like you’re on a mission.” Jayne was nice and normal-friendly, not manic like the ones on the sales floor. He guessed working retail over the holidays made people crazy in different ways.

  “You could say that. I’m looking for Elin Bergstrom. Is she here?”

  Jayne raised a blue eyebrow. She’d quit disguising her hair and even with the blue, she fit right in with the young tourists who dyed their hair all the colors of the rainbow, and some the rainbow had never thought of.

  “She is. First time she’s ever been late to work, but she’s here now.”

  Jayne was looking at him now with a cooler expression, and he felt a hint of frost in the air. Nothing a Siberian werewolf would even blink at. “She left something at the Hallowed Bean. I’m just returning it.”

  She stared. He looked back steadily until she came to whatever decision she needed to make. She nodded.

  “Sure. She’s in the back. I’ll go get her.”

  He nodded his head politely. “Thank you.”

  While he waited, he looked around. This was where she spent her days and that made it interesting. He’d never been one to do a lot of Christmas shopping, and now he remembered why. This place was filled with crazy people.

  Aside from being crammed with toys, the shop was also filled to the rafters with holiday tchotchkes and knick-knacks, decorations and wrapping, and more tree ornaments than he’d ever seen in one place. Half the shelves were covered with red, green, and gold glittery things, where others featured the blue and silver he preferred.

  Christmas in the Rus was very different from the American holiday. Ded Moroz, or Father Frost, and his granddaughter, the beautiful snow maiden, Snegurochka, didn’t travel until Three Kings Day because the Rus, like it’s mundane Russian counterpart, used the Julian calendar. Although it had never been outlawed in the Rus as it had in Russia, the holiday of his youth was much more toned than this insane rush to purchase happiness.

  But as he looked around at the smiling people, he thought perhaps his small tree could use a new ornament or two.

  Finally, someone tapped his shoulder.

  “Can I hel—” Her eyes widened. “It’s you.”

  “It’s me. My name is Dima Samarin. You must be Elin Bergstrom.”

  She held out her hand, and he grasped it gently, struck again by her bright beauty. “Zimneye nebo.”

  “I’m sorry?” She cocked her head to the side slightly.

  “Your eyes. They’re the color of the winter sky.”

  She blushed again. Not the wild, agitated color he’d seen earlier, but a pretty pink flush spread from her cheeks out to the tips of her pointed ears.

  He hadn’t let go of her hand, and she left it there. It felt good to touch her again—something he’d been craving since the moment she ran from his arms in the shop.

  “Is there…is there something I can do for you?” she finally asked.

  He’d nearly forgotten why he was there. Dima held out the folder with her papers in it. “I found these at the coffee shop. You left them behind when you—” He didn’t want to say “when you ran,” so she said it for him.

  “When I took off like a crazy person?” Her self-deprecating chuckle charmed him.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  They paused and he watched the pink fade until it was only in her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry I said those things. It’s not what I meant.”

  He smiled, and thought he hadn’t smiled this many times in a day in quite some time. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it really isn’t. It’s just that my family raised sled dogs and I’ve always found the smell comforting.”

  His heart gave a great thump and his smile grew. “Then I’m honored.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else for him to say and an awkward silence descended. At least, as much silence as could fall in a store where the noise level was a nearly criminal assault.

  “Are you going to the Christmas ball tonight?” he finally asked out of desperation.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not seeing anyone and I didn’t want to go in a group.”

  Dima picked up the extremely helpful information she’d dropped and ran with it. “I hadn’t planned on attending, but would you like to go with me?”

  Winter elves, with those pointed ears, had hearing nearly as acute as his own, and Jayne stepped over. At least she’d quit trying to pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping.

  “You could take the afternoon off if you need to go find a gown. I know Misty’s Boo-tique has some beautiful gowns available.”

  “Gowns?” Elin’s pale blonde eyebrows rose.

  “It’s a formal event,” he said. “Is that all right?”

  “It’s been a while since I had a chance to wear something really nice.”

  He looked her up and down and smiled again. “I think you look nice.”

  “Oh good grief.” Jayne grinned. “You guys are gonna give me a toothache. And that’s saying something for a winter elf.”

  Dima mock frowned at Jayne. “Are you still here for a reason?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to move this along, so Elin can go dress shopping.”

  “Shouldn’t I actually say yes, first?”

  How had her life suddenly taken a backwards leap in the timeline back to high school?

  For a second, she wondered whether to nurse that spark of indignation that flared up—she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions—but decided to be amused instead.

  Either way, there was no way she was going to turn down Dima’s invitation. Especially not when he delivered it in that perfectly yummy Russian accent.

  Even with his dark skin, she could tell when a rush of warmth hit his cheeks. His slight smile deepened. “Ms Frost has always been a troublemaker. Ms Bergstrom, I’d be honored if you could attend the Christmas Ball with me this evening.”

  Jayne stood behind him, nodding and waving her hand at her face, miming that she should accept because he was hot. She wasn’t wrong.

  Trying to keep from laughing at her boss’s antics, she accepted. “I’d love to. Thank you for asking.”

  Dima turned around. “I think we’ve got this. You can go now.” Elin chuckled at Jayne’s patently false huff, belied by the happy gleam in her eye.

  “I’m sorry for the late notice,” he continued once Jayne had retreated. “Will you be able to find what you need?”

  “I’m sure I will.” She’d make a dress out of green velvet curtains if she had to. “What time?”

  They settled the details and she very much enjoyed the view as he walked away. Oh, he was nicely put together. From the sigh she heard beside her, she wasn’t the only o
ne watching. She elbowed Jayne. “Don’t be a lech.”

  “What? I can look. How’d you meet Dima, anyway?”

  “He goes to the Hallowed Bean in the mornings when I’m there. We never even talked before today.”

  “What did he bring you?”

  Elin suddenly realized she’d been hugging the chocolate-scented pages of her manuscript. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a project I’m working on.”

  “Some computer thing?” Jayne didn’t mess with the store tech, and left all the IT end of the shop squarely in Elin’s lap—which was right where she liked it.

  “Yeah, some computer thing.”

  “Well, no more computer things today. You have a gown to buy.” Jayne gave Elin directions to the dress shop and one of the local beauty salons, the Hair Scare, if she wanted to do any sprucing up.

  Elin dashed up to her apartment to make a call to the shop and the salon to let them know she was coming, and she put the pages aside to look at later.

  Half an hour before Dima was scheduled to pick her up, she was almost ready.

  Elin put the finishing touches on her make-up and admired the new haircut that made her wild curls look tamed and elegant. She was already fastened into the fancy undergarments that sucked in the parts of her that weren’t quite as firm as they had been twenty years ago, and she’d very carefully rolled on the silky sheer stockings she’d bought on a whim.

  The whole day had been one whim after another—what was a pair of stockings?

  Her gaze strayed again to the dress that hung behind her door. It had been a splurge, but the pale blue gown molded gracefully over her curves from shoulder to knee before flaring out in a gentle swirl of glittering fabric that didn’t quite brush the ground. When she’d walked into the shop, it was the first thing that caught her eye. The fit had been perfect from the get-go. And the shoes she’d found—sleek kitten heels covered in gleaming crystal beading—were both comfortable and on sale.

  If Santa had taken out a billboard that said, “Go the ball!” the signs couldn’t have been more clear.

  Nerves fluttered up in her belly, not for the first time that day. It had been quite a while since she’d dated. She’d gone out a fair bit, but she’d never found anyone that made her want to stay. This was the first time in years that anyone had made her nervous, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.