Dream by the Fire: Winter Magic

by Editor: Michelle Puffer

  After a few moments of fighting for breath, he lifted his head. “I love you, Grace.”

  Allowing the tears to run down her face unchecked, Grace gave a watery smile. “I love you too.”

  He smiled back then glanced toward the Christmas tree. “Hang on.”

  She sighed as he slipped from her and reached for a tiny package beneath the tree. He returned to her side, placing it in her hand.

  “Open it.”

  “But it’s not Christmas yet.”

  “It will be worthless if you wait till Christmas to open it.”

  Quirking an eyebrow, she undid the tiny bow and ripped away the wrapping paper. A brown envelope fell out, plain and unmarked. She looked up at him, searching his eyes for clues, but he only grinned at her.

  “Come on, Grace. You’re killing me here.”

  She slid her fingers inside the envelope and removed the tickets inside. Four plane tickets for New York. Jaw dropping, her gaze flitted between him and her Christmas present.

  “Oh my God, are these real?”

  The wonderful sound of his laughter reached her ears as he wrapped her in his arms while she studied the tickets. “I’d be a crap husband if I bought you fake tickets, wouldn’t I?”

  “But how did you… When did you…?”

  “I bought them this morning. Thought I’d try my luck.”

  Giggling, she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you did.”

  “So am I. What better way to start our new life than spending Christmas in New York?”

  She looked up at his laughing eyes, so full of love for her. New life. She liked the sound of that. She sat up and stuck out her hand, ready to ask the million dollar question. “So we’re moving on?”

  A wide grin spread across his face, and he gave her hand a firm shake. “Yes, baby. We’re moving on.”

  Upon A Midnight Clear

  by

  Kelly Madden

  The snow clung heavily to the bottoms of her snowshoes as Soonsee trudged through the pine forest. It was beautiful; even under its heavy white blanket the pungent scent filled her senses like nothing else. With a heavy sigh, she shifted an axe from one shoulder to the other. Soonsee was not in the woods to enjoy the scenery; she was there to fell a tree for the upcoming Yule celebration.

  Yule.

  “The best time of the year,” she mimicked her mother saying, “the hope we will all survive the winter, the time to exchange gifts, and to celebrate those we love.” She scowled.

  If you had someone to love.

  She kicked a nearby tree trunk, and a headful of snow engulfed her. She cursed loudly, her colorful words echoing across the still landscape. Served her right. There were people to love at home. Soonsee brushed away the snow.

  The responsibility was not to be ignored. She hoped to find the tree quickly and be done with it—felling a tree felt wrong, no matter the reason.

  One of many odd beliefs that set her apart. She grimaced. Another was her name, given by the Wise Woman of the village, her grandmother. The elder had heard her mother saying, “soon,” and then “we’ll see” to the young toddler and had bestowed the hated name.

  The villagers teased constantly, and not just for her name and strange ways. Unusual features, unlike any in the village, also made her stand out. Soonsee often wondered if she resembled her father, but that would never be known.

  The ruminations had caused her to walk deeply into the forest, to an area she had never visited before. The strange surroundings did not inspire fear; the forest had always been a friend. Nevertheless, the sky began to darken, and she did not want to cause her mother to worry.

  The last rays of the setting sun painted the snow pink and gold. The branches silhouetted against the brilliant sky revealed an unexpected glimpse of bright green and white. Mistletoe, she thought, amazed, knowing the unusual plant did not normally grow on pines.

  She climbed the tree quickly, from many years of practice, withdrew a ceremonial knife and cut a branch of the plant so valued by her people. Unfortunately, Soonsee had only the gift meant for the chosen evergreen, but decided to leave the sparkling stone at the base of this pine instead. The Goddess would provide a Yule tree payment, she thought with a smile, shoving the mistletoe branch into her pack.

  It was now almost completely dark. The mistletoe was special, but finding the right tree was paramount. Soonsee continued on as the first light of a full moon filtered through the feathery pine branches. She walked for some time, knowing her tracks could be retraced. When a thicker than usual clump of trees blocked the way, she pushed aside the heavy fronds and gasped.

  A circular glade shone icy white by moonlight; a single tree stood in the center. No tracks of any kind had marred the snow’s smooth surface. A slight frown crossed her face. The snow was pristine, yet not a trace of it on the tree. But something else covered the small pine; every branch held a small trinket or fruit, and the needles seemed to glow an unearthly blue.

  Soonsee’s heart beat rapidly, and she grabbed her silver necklace. The fairies had not bothered the village, but it paid to be cautious. One never knew what a member of the Fair Folk might do—the talisman her grandmother had made comforted her.

  It was fascinating that the Fey would decorate a Yule tree, for Soonsee was certain it was they who had adorned it. Going back would be the prudent choice, but the small tree was so mesmerizing that she walked across the perfect white snow towards it.

  But she did not get far. A figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere; tall, slender, and golden haired. And, by far, the most attractive man she had ever seen.

  She shook her head. Not a man.

  Fairy.

  Soonsee swallowed hard and quickly shut her eyes. There were stories concerning relationships with the Fey; men and women were enticed and never seen again, gone to the enchanted bowers of the inhuman creatures. She squeezed the necklace harder.

  “Why are you here?” an oddly accented voice asked.

  Soonsee cautiously opened her eyes, careful not to look directly at his face.

  “I came for our Yule tree.”

  “You would take this tree we have made?”

  Gulping, she realized her mistake. “No…not this tree. I was admiring it.” She looked up slightly. “It’s the nicest Yule tree I’ve ever seen,” she said, remembering her mother’s words about the great pride of the Fey.

  He laughed, the sound of bells on the wind. “Your words are unneeded adornment.”

  Soonsee took a deep breath. “I’m not here to take your tree. I came to find a tree for our village and was drawn to this one. I only admire it.”

  “Better. Although, all the trees belong to us.”

  She nodded. “And I have brought a gift in exchange.”

  “Give it to me,” he said, extending his hand.

  Soonsee hesitated then reached in her pocket for the small stone…and remembered she’d placed it at the bottom of another tree. Her mind raced. She had the mistletoe, but that would be very dangerous, especially at this time of year.

  He tilted his head slightly and smiled. Soonsee’s stomach turned over and she willed the feeling of attraction away.

  “Surely you have not forgotten?”

  She shook her head. “I…I don’t have it anymore.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and she almost swooned. “You know the price.”

  Soonsee nodded miserably. Her life—or at least, captivity. She blinked back tears, thinking of what her mother would say when she never returned. How her grandmother would feel.

  He lifted her chin, and she gazed into slanted eyes, green as the forest. “Blessed Yule, lovely one. Depart in peace.”

  Soonsee blinked and discovered herself alone in the glade; the tree was gone, and so was the mysterious fairy. She ran through the woods as if the hounds of the underworld were after her. Was this freedom temporary? Would he return to whisk her away to some Unseelie court?

  She ran faster, the wind nipping at
her heels. Finally, she came to the edge of her village and sighed in relief. Her mother would be happy once the tale was told, tree or no tree. Perhaps everything would be all right. Slower now, she walked to her home.

  Lovely one…

  He had called her lovely.

  And that had never happened before. Her childhood differences were uncomfortable, but her oddness was even more evident in adulthood. Men never lasted after the first outing.

  Soonsee grabbed her necklace and muttered a spell of protection, grinding her teeth. It was not human. It would happily take her away, never to see her family again.

  “Soonsee?”

  The necklace fell to the ground. “Mother.”

  “Where have you been? The tree is lovely, but where did you go after dropping it off?”

  Soonsee shook her head. Tree? Someone else must have brought one. And after her mother had asked her to do it.

  “Did you hear me? I love the tree, but where did you go? It’s almost time for the celebration.”

  Soonsee sighed. The gift exchange was tolerable, the food enjoyable, but she dreaded the midnight kisses under the mistletoe.

  At that very moment the holiday plant jabbed her, and she shrugged off the pack. The mistletoe. She had almost forgotten.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I was gathering this,” she said, thrusting the berry-laden branch towards her.

  Her mother gasped. “Mistletoe! How wonderful to have it newly gathered tonight.”

  Soonsee knew her mother looked forward to moments under it. She walked slowly to her room. It felt odd to think about her mother kissing men, although it was the way of things. Her mother was next in line to be the village Wise Woman, Soonsee after her. Wise women did not take a permanent mate, although they could, from time to time, enjoy the company of a man. It was a requirement, at least once, to produce offspring.

  Soonsee often wondered who had sired her.

  Her shoulders tensed. She too would need to take a lover, although it was not an immediate worry since no one would have her.

  A holiday gown, green as the pines, waited in her room. She gathered her long hair and pinned it high, staring at the reflection. The dark hair, no matter how she combed and brushed, remained dull. Her face…she turned away. Soonsee wasn’t ugly, but her features had a strange, almost blurred, quality to them. She sighed heavily. It was time to join the festivities.

  People filled the main room upon her arrival; some couples danced, some already kissed under the mistletoe, and many admired the tree.

  Soonsee froze.

  It was the same tree she had seen in the glade, minus the eldritch glow.

  Her heart beat faster. How had it gotten here? Had the fairy brought it? And if so, what did it mean? His motives remained unclear. She walked to the tree. It was beautiful; the small fruits still beckoned enticingly and, up close, the small trinkets revealed themselves as delicate wooden creatures of the forest.

  Suddenly, light filled the room, and Soonsee realized her worst fears. The fairy from the woods stood in the middle of the room. He smiled, and again deep attraction surged through her.

  Soonsee’s grandmother stepped between them. “Why have you intruded?”

  The fairy glanced towards the tree. “The price was not paid.”

  “Soonsee! Is this right?” her grandmother said, fear lacing her voice.

  “I left the stone for the mistletoe. I did not want to exchange that for the tree… I did not take it.”

  The fairy walked to her. “You chose it. I simply brought it here.”

  Soonsee gazed up into kind and gentle eyes.

  Her grandmother placed her hand on his chest. “She will pay the price now!”

  The fairy smiled slightly. “Then let it be the mistletoe, as that is what should have been given me,” he said, pulling her underneath the waxy green branch.

  He kissed her at the stroke of midnight, and all Soonsee’s unhappiness melted away. She knew true joy for the first time, and fear sloughed away like dead skin. The crowd gasped.

  He led her gently to a hallway mirror.

  Fair she was, with shining gold hair and the same wide, slanted eyes of the fairy beside her.

  “My child,” her mother whispered, sinking to the ground.

  Soonsee looked at her grandmother in confusion, but the old woman turned away.

  The fairy gently lifted her chin. “I have waited for you.”

  Soonsee’s heart raced. “What am I?” she whispered.

  “Free,” he said sadly. And with that, he gave her one more loving glance and strode out of the house.

  The room fell silent, but not Soonsee. “Mother?” she said indignantly. But her mother remained on the floor, head in shaking hands.

  Soonsee’s grandmother finally led her away from the crowded room, into the night. “It is my fault.”

  Soonsee stared in disbelief.

  “I found you alone in the forest. Left a gift and took you, spelled your features human.”

  “I am like him?”

  Her grandmother sighed. “It seemed the answer to my prayers…your mother unable to conceive. She never knew,” she said, tears running down her face. “I told her you were a motherless child from another village.”

  Soonsee swallowed hard. “The forest is my home?”

  “Your first sentence was ‘may I walk among the trees’.” She smiled sadly. “You asked constantly.”

  Soon….we’ll see…

  Soonsee pushed the childhood memory away, remembering something else. “What did he mean, ‘waited for me’?”

  Her grandmother smoothed Soonsee’s hair away from her face. “Fairies are bound together at birth.”

  Soonsee backed away. “I am bound, yet he says I am free. I was stolen, yet this is my family.”

  Her mother joined them.

  “My daughter,” she said softly. “I did not know you were Fey, but I knew, somehow, all was not right.” She gazed into Soonsee’s eyes and stroked her hair. “I am guilty too.”

  Soonsee hugged her mother. “I forgive you both,” she said softly.

  “It is your choice now,” her grandmother said.

  The three stood together as the stars wheeled high overhead.

  “I want to go,” Soonsee whispered through her tears.

  “I know,” her mother replied sadly.

  Soonsee hugged her mother and grandmother one last time and returned to the forest. The moonlight lit a silvery path, and she found the glade easily enough.

  She pushed through the soft fronds. He stood there as she knew he would. He called her name; the syllables like music in the wind.

  It was beautiful.

  Solstice Night

  by

  Lyra Marlowe

  For Steven, my tireless First Reader

  Marta had just gotten all the children to the table when the inn’s door banged open, flooding the room with frigid air. A man came in, snow on his boots and shoulders, and only his eyes visible above the scarf wrapped around his face. He carried a sword and a long knife on his belt and a hunter’s short bow over his shoulder.

  “Come in,” Marta called briskly. “Close the door.”

  The man did as he was told. He glanced around then strode to the table furthest from the fireplace, where he leaned his bow against the wall and sat with his back to the family.

  Marta followed him. “We’ve just started our Solstice Feast,” she said. “You’re welcome to join us. All are family tonight.”

  The hunter shook his head. “I’ll not join your feast,” he said curtly. He drew the scarf away from his face.

  She gasped and dropped back a step. The hunter’s face horrified her. A terrible scar ran from one side of his face to the other. His lips had been split open and they'd healed in a curled-back snarl that showed his teeth like an angry animal. His eyes were unscarred, but dreadful, dead and cold.

  The young man chuckled bitterly. “I didn’t think you’d want me at your table.”

 
; Marta took a deep breath. “You are welcome at the feast. All are welcome on Solstice night.”

  “Bah!” he answered impatiently. “I’ve no need of your family, or your feasting. Just bring me something to eat.”

  She nodded, relieved. If the children saw his face, they’d have nightmares for a year. Best he sat there with his back to them.

  And if he was alone on Solstice Night—well, she had offered the hospitality of her table and been refused. There was nothing more she could do.

  Marta hurried into the kitchen and filled a plate from the dishes she had prepared for her own family. She served it gingerly, trying not to touch him or look directly at his face. But the hunter grabbed her wrist before she could retreat. “The girl. Liesel. You know her?”

  She shivered. “I know Liesel.”

  “She’s run off. Where would she go?”

  “What matter is it to you?”

  The sneer on his face deepened. “Ten gold pieces for her return. It matters quite a lot to me. Where would she go?”

  Marta wanted nothing more than for this frightening man to take his hand off her arm. “She’ll go to the moors,” she answered. “Like she always does.”

  “She’s run away before?”

  “Aye,” Marta admitted. She stole a glance at her youngest child. The girl had just started to walk, and she chirped like a happy little lark. She had nearly died at her birth. Liesel had saved her tiny life. “You can't go after her tonight. The storm, you know.”

  He smirked. "A little snow will not stop me."

  "It won't be a little snow, with that north wind blowing. You'd best stay in town tonight. You go onto the moors tonight and you'll not come back."

  "Then a girl on her own out there must also be in great danger," he retorted.

  “She's as safe as in her mama's arms out there. You listen to me, young man—”