Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3)

by Shauna Granger

  “Well, duh,” Joey said.

  “Right, so things like that got swept under the rug. But here’s the thing about gods and magic—once you stop believing in them, they lose power.”

  “What? Like, they die?” Joey asked in a whisper.

  “They can,” I said with a nod. “They thrive on belief. What are they if no one gives them power? So after years of keeping his story a secret, people forgot about Krampus, and he became weaker and weaker until he wasn’t much more powerful than any other supernatural creature. They say that a group of hunters scaled the mountain where he dwells, that leads to the entrance to Helheim, and found him. He was a shadow of his former self, and they bound him and sealed his cave to keep him trapped forever or until he died. If he can die.”

  “But…” Joey’s eyes slid from mine to Ronnie’s and back again.

  I watched her swallow hard as the realization that I’d been thinking about for days dawned on her.

  “The Krampus festival. People believe again. And this is the second year, so people have been thinking about him for a while now. Those guys who make the Krampus costumes and the people who put on the festival—I mean, they’re planning all year long. People have been thinking about him for two years now!” Joey’s voice became higher the faster she spoke. Silver glitter pooled around her, spilling onto the floor.

  “Right,” I said. “People believe again. A lot of people like the idea of a Christmas Devil. They think it’s fun and funny and silly. And now they might have woken the devil.” I glanced at Ronnie and saw my concern reflected in her dark eyes. “And after so many years, he’s probably very, very hungry.”

  Chapter 6

  I put thoughts of hungry holiday devils and missing children out of my head the next night. It was time for the city tree lighting, and I wanted to enjoy it. Though this was the first year I could afford the luxury of decorating my home and buying presents for all my friends, every other year I’d been able to enjoy a little bit of the holiday at the city tree lighting. It was free to everyone, and it had a much better turnout than the Samhain festival because it was something humans could understand and enjoy.

  The tree lighting always made me feel as though I was a part of a huge, happy family. Vendors set up along the sidewalks, and at the crossroads, where the barricades stopped traffic, food trucks had set up shop, filling the air with their glorious, mouthwatering scents.

  The massive evergreen could be seen from far away, the top of it reaching high above the surrounding buildings. But once I got to the town square, where the roads split away and I could see the whole majestic tree, its grandeur really hit me. Enchanted snow fluttered down from the domed ward, but the snow didn’t touch the tree, not before the decorating and lighting.

  I walked with the crowd, Joey at my side and Ronnie and Spencer behind us, hand-in-hand. No one shoved or pushed, and no one yelled or grumbled. It was so nice, humans and supernaturals all together like a real community.

  “I wish I’d brought Smert,” Joey said.

  I glanced over to see her eyes were dimmed with disappointment even as she held up her phone to snap a picture of the crowd. I took her hand to link her arm in mine once she was done tapping on her phone. “I know, but he doesn’t fit in your pocket anymore. You’ll have to get him registered before you can take him out in public now.”

  “Yeah.” She blew out a breath, making her lips vibrate. “How much bigger do you think he’s gonna get?”

  “Probably not much bigger than Artemis,” I said.

  Joey blinked. “Artemis is huge!”

  “No, he’s not,” I said, not keeping the indignation out of my voice. “He’s just fluffy.”

  “Fluffy with fat,” Joey said, and I nudged her side.

  “Well, for a dragon, that’s really small.”

  “Are there any big dragons left in the world?”

  “Yes,” I said as we stepped onto the curb leading to the town square. Snow crunched under our feet. “But they keep mostly to volcanic areas. It keeps them warm, and not even the Mojave Desert can do that.”

  “Wow, so have you ever seen any?”

  “No,” I said, “but my mother did once. She was studying abroad and went to Japan for a semester. There was one sleeping inside Mount Fuji.”

  “Are you serious?” Joey asked, and the look on her face made me laugh. “Oh, you’re kidding. That’s not nice, Mattie.”

  “No, I’m being totally serious. You can Google it.”

  She watched my face and, after a moment, decided I was telling the truth. “Whoa. You know, Smert’s been sleeping in the fireplace a lot lately, when the flames die down to embers.”

  “Yeah, you gotta keep him really warm,” I said, and Joey nodded slowly.

  Ronnie tapped my shoulder. When I glanced back, she nodded toward the food trucks. Joey and I waved at her and Spence as they broke off to be all couple-y together.

  “You’re not hungry?” I asked Joey.

  She shook her head. “Not right now. Maybe later when the lines are shorter.”

  I glanced over and saw Ronnie and Spence already lined up in front of an Asian fusion food truck. At least thirty people were ahead of them.

  “Good idea,” I said.

  We weaved between booths, marveling at the trinkets for sale and dodging children begging for balloons or sweets, and finally made it to the viewing area. People had set out chairs and blankets to claim their places, possibly hours or even a day or two ago.

  Standing around the base of the tree, the lowest braches not quite touching the tallest man’s head, were members of every clergy in town. There were the usual Christian suspects: pastor, priest, and altar boys and girls. There was a rabbi, druid priestess, and the leader of the city’s biggest coven—Althea Courten. She never lost the coven election. But what surprised me was the sight of Jameson standing beside Althea, shaking hands with the others around him.

  “What’s Jameson doing up there?” Joey asked as we both stopped to stare.

  “Dunno. Maybe this was his reward for helping with the whole Moon Madness thing?”

  “Then you should be up there.”

  I shook my head. “Pshhh, thanks, but I don’t need that kind of attention.”

  Jameson looked a little out of place as the only person up there not in some ceremonial outfit. He wore his standard jeans and work shirt, his body temperature keeping him warm against the night air and enchanted snow.

  “The tree lighting will begin in ten minutes,” a voice said over a loudspeaker.

  As if drawn by magnets, the crowd around us thickened, and people claimed their saved spots.

  “Sorry,” a voice said as I was shoved forward. Hands caught my shoulders to keep me upright. “So clumsy of me, I’m sorry.”

  I turned to see Cole, the man I’d danced with at the Krampus ball, holding me. “Cole!” I felt my eyes go round, and heat ran up my neck.

  He smiled, showing me that dimple in his right cheek, and I smiled back. “Mattie, hi.” After a moment, he seemed to remember he was still holding on to me and snatched his hands away with a quiet chuckle. As if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, he crammed them into his jacket pockets.

  “A-hem,” Joey said in my ear, lifted up on her toes to put her face close to mine.

  “Joey,” I said, “you remember Cole from the ball.”

  “We didn’t formally meet,” Cole said, holding out his hand for Joey to shake.

  Joey smiled at him, her fair skin running pink as she took in Cole’s dimpled smile.

  “Funny to run into you twice,” I said.

  “Well, you’re standing on my blanket,” Cole replied, but he was still smiling.

  “Oh, frogs! I’m sorry!” I grabbed Joey’s arm and started to move away.

  Cole stopped me. “No, please, join me. My friend couldn’t get off work, so I’m a loner tonight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, your footprints are already all over it,” he teased
, and I hated the flush of heat that ran up my face. “Please.” He held out his hand, indicating we should sit.

  The crowd around us was all starting to sit, so if Joey and I stayed standing, we’d be the jerks blocking the view. By the time I relented, Joey had already sat down, cross-legged and leaning back on her hands.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “No, thank you. I’d look like a weirdo on this big blanket by myself.”

  “Or a jerk,” Joey offered. “One dude taking up so much space.”

  “Exactly,” Cole said with another quiet chuckle.

  A children’s choir filed on stage, and one group off to the side cheered, letting everyone know where their parents were seated. We suffered through their high-pitched renditions of “Silent Night” and “Here Comes Santa.”

  Cole leaned over and whispered, “I am so sick of that damn song.”

  I muffled a laugh behind my hand, then felt someone push up against me.

  “That took forever,” Ronnie muttered as she squeezed between me and Joey.

  Spencer sat on the edge of the blanket behind her. He held out his hand to Cole and introduced himself.

  “How’d you find us?” I asked.

  “Joey’s hair,” Ronnie said, offering us some of her cheese fries.

  “It’s not that bright,” Joey said around a mouthful.

  “Yes, it is,” the four of us said in unison, followed by laughter.

  Someone nearby shushed us as the new mayor took the stage, standing behind the microphone. He made a speech about our communities coming together and how proud he was of our city, that the rest of the country could look to us to understand how it should be done.

  After the many scandals of Dixon Fox broke all over town, he lost the reelection by a landslide. The new mayor, Carl Martinez, was picture perfect for the job. He was tall, dark, and handsome and had a wife who emulated Jackie O without looking out of date. They had one boy and one girl. He was just this side of liberal and just this side of conservative. Somehow, he seemed to make everyone happy. I didn’t want to know what he was like behind closed doors when he unscrewed his smile.

  “Do you think he runs on four AA batteries or is he solar powered?” Cole whispered, nudging my shoulder with his.

  “I thought he had a wind-up key in his back,” I whispered back.

  “Yeah, that his wife turns.”

  “Probably.”

  When Martinez was done grandstanding, each of the clergy members took turns blessing the tree. Finally, it was time to decorate. That was the main reason why everyone came out.

  Off to one side, the ground rumbled, and an archway formed out of the mounded earth. People gasped in delight as the Fae Court stepped into the night. The light glowing behind them gave the illusion that paradise lay behind them. Ronnie and I shared a look, knowing it was more like the first level of Hell for anyone who wasn’t Fae.

  Stoirm and Willow were clad in snow-white robes trimmed in soft owl feathers. Willow was covered in so many sparkling jewels she looked as if she’d fallen into a vat of sequins. Their court, including the sulking Roane, stood behind them. As one, they lifted their hands, and glowing orbs of white fairy lights drifted across the park and scattered among the tree’s boughs. Children squealed in delight, and most of the crowd made noises of awe as the lights settled into place. The ground rumbled again, and the archway disappeared, taking the fairies with them.

  “Gods forbid they stick around and be part of the community,” Spencer muttered, surprising us all.

  Ronnie gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  Joey shifted next to us and got to her feet. She was followed by other pixies, small and delicate like her, all shimmering in different colors of the rainbow. A few yards away, I recognized her cousin. Charlie was just as fair as Joey, but her hair was so white it was almost a halo. She’d added bright blue streaks to the fringe that hung over her forehead. Joey spotted her, and they both waved excitedly, lifting onto the balls of their feet and bouncing in place.

  They seemed to hear something the rest of us couldn’t because, as one, all the half-blooded pixies faced the tree. From behind the massive tree, a cloud of tiny, sparkling pixies flew into view. Again, children cried out in surprise, and people made hushed noises as we watched.

  Joey and the other larger pixies brought up their hands, casting pixie dust into the air. A strong breeze caught the glittering magic into a swirling vortex around the tree. The pixie dust glittered and shimmered, winking in the fairy lights as it settled onto the boughs like sparkling snow. The crowd cheered its approval, and the tiny pixies drifted away as the rest took their seats. Ronnie gave Joey a hug like a proud mother, and Joey’s cheeks sparkled with joy.

  Althea stepped forward and lifted her hands, making the wide sleeves of her robe fall to her elbows. Ronnie and I climbed to our feet, along with about a hundred other witches scattered in the crowd. I’d done this before—hell, I’d done it last night in my apartment—but standing there with so many eyes on me made me feel a little panicked. Sweat broke out on the backs of my hands, and my fingers felt stiff in the cold night air. Ronnie was a warm presence next to me, and her small smile made her look like the little girl I’d met so many years ago. She looked so calm, so confident, it loosened the knot in my shoulder blades.

  Her hand reached for mine, and we twined our fingers together. A zing of power went through me when our hands met. The air was alive with so many witches concentrating on the same objective. I could understand why so many joined covens; so many working the same magics at the same time, it was a little exhilarating.

  At Althea’s direction, we raised our hands, and tiny, heatless flames ignited in our palms. Mine was the usual blue, and Ronnie’s was dark red. We released our flames, and a hundred different balls of fire soared through the air like meteors and drifted around the massive tree. I saw a few blue flames like mine, making me feel better about the nontraditional color. They were joined by reds, greens, yellows, oranges, and purples. When it was all done, the tree was so brightly lit that it overwhelmed the streetlights, and everyone cheered their approval.

  Ronnie wrapped her arms around my shoulders then pointed in the distance. Across the heads and shoulders of people, I spotted her parents, arm-in-arm and waving at us. Warmth spread through me at the sight of my adoptive parents, and we both waved back.

  I realized, as I sat between Cole and Ronnie, that my throat was tight and my vision a little blurry. I cleared my throat and blinked back the tears. I loved Ronnie’s parents. They were family to me, and it was wonderful to see them smile at the both of us, as if we were both their daughters. But it still hurt something inside me. In their faces, I saw what was missing in my life, what would have made the last eight Christmases perfect, money or no. I missed my parents so much it broke my heart to think of them.

  Ronnie scooted closer to me, put an arm around my shoulders, and rested her cheek on me. Her ropey curls pressed against the side of my face and smelled of vanilla and honey. Her other arm went around me so she could clasp her hands, and I hooked my hands on her arm and leaned into her. Ronnie knew. Ronnie always knew.

  With her warm comfort, I cleared my vision to watch the festivities. The mayor stepped up with his family, a bright smile on his face. He was careful to keep the same happy look as dozens of cameras flashed at the edge of the stage.

  Two men brought a massive star up on stage and stopped in front of the mayor, his wife, and two children. They would flip a switch and light the star that would be hoisted to the top of the tree by a pulley system. That one thing would be done without magic so that the humans didn’t feel left out in the decorating of the community tree.

  As the mayor and his family approached the star, the crowd clapped, whistled, and cheered. The mayor waved, smiling even brighter, before he knelt next to his daughter. His wife stood beside their son. The daughter looked about seven years old, her brunette hair carefully curled into soft ringlets that lay against her b
right red coat. Her mother had pinned white bows like gift bows in her hair. Their son looked to be closer to eleven or twelve, just on the verge of puberty. He was dressed in dark slacks and a black peacoat, his hair gelled perfectly, but the sprinkling of acne on his chin ruined the look. His mother leaned over to kiss his cheek, and he tried not to cringe as a camera caught the moment. They pressed the switch, and the star lit up.

  An explosion rocked the ground beneath us.

  People screamed.

  Noise was washed away as everyone’s ears buzzed in the aftermath.

  The star exploded, stealing everyone’s vision.

  Ronnie was still clinging to me, and everyone around us reached for reassurance that no one was hurt. I blinked my vision clear and squeezed Joey’s hand to let her know we were okay. I touched Cole’s shoulder as Ronnie turned to Spencer, but he was already moving through the crowd, bounding to the stage to reach his Alpha. My heart was in my throat until I saw Jameson at the edge of the stage, protecting Althea and the druid priestess with his large body.

  “What happened?” Ronnie yelled over the rushing noise in my ears and the voices of people around us.

  “I don’t know,” I yelled back.

  “Charlie!” Joey screamed, her hands cupped around her mouth.

  Her cousin stood and waved her arms over her head. She was okay. Ronnie spun toward her parents, but they were already making their way to us. It seemed everyone was okay.

  “Maybe it was just an electrical malfunction,” Cole offered, squinting at the stage.

  A cloud of white smoke blocked the view of the star and the mayor’s family, but nothing could cover the scream that rang through the night. Police and emergency responders rushed the stage. When the smoke cleared, the mayor, his wife, and daughter were standing and staring at the space where their son should have been.