by Alyson Noel
She stands before us, her Santa hat tipped low over one eye, giving an extra edge to her sexy Mrs. Claus look. Roaming the length of the stage, allowing everyone an equal view. “I just want to thank all of you for taking the time to come to my Annual Rabbit Hole Christmas Party!” She pauses in a way that prompts the audience to whistle and cheer, shushing them when she deems it’s gone on long enough. “There’s a lot of new faces out there, and I know how excited you must be to finally be included. Just think of it as my little gift to you!” She pauses again, and when the cheers are a little more subdued than the last time, she places a hand on her hip and frowns until they kick it up enough to prompt her to proceed. “And speaking of gifts, for all of you Secret Santas out there, it’s time for the gift exchange—so, no need to delay, you know the drill—let the wrapping paper fly!”
She passes the mic back to Auden and exits the stage, as Epitaph breaks into a chorus of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” that sounds a lot like the Weezer version Jennika has on her iPod.
“So—how’d I do?” Lita stands before us all breathless and pretty as she readjusts her hat.
“Great!” I say.
“Excellent!” Xotichl confirms.
But Lita just chews on her lip, unconvinced.
“You know, I really thought he’d show.” She crosses her arms over her chest, as she does a quick scan of the club. Responding to the questioning look on my face, she says, “Cade. I’m talking about Cade. He’s gone completely MIA.”
“Lita, you’re not … you’re not still into him, are you?” I peer into her eyes, searching for signs of soul loss, which only seems to annoy her.
“Stop with the probing stare. You’re freaking me out. But to answer your question, no—I’m not into Cade. Not at all. Not even a teensy, weensy bit. But at the same time I can’t help thinking how he’s all too aware of just how hard I work on this party. He knows how much it means to me. Heck, I’ve been organizing this thing going all the way back to sixth grade. And broken heart or not, it’s completely rude of him to just blow me and my party off like we don’t exist.”
“But maybe it’s too painful for him to be around you,” Xotichl says, giving me a swift kick under the table that warns me to play along.
“Yeah, maybe he doesn’t want you to see what happens when he gets really upset?” I say, which only succeeds in garnering a weird look from both Xotichl and Lita alike.
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Lita frowns. “I swear you are such an enigma to me. Anyway, the thing is, if Cade’s going to continue to pine over me, then the least he could do is have the decency to show up and pine in person. He could at least give me the satisfaction of seeing it firsthand!”
Xotichl and I nod, as though we totally understand.
“Well, at least his twin’s here. That should make you happy, right?”
I follow the length of her gaze all the way to where Dace stands, looking tall, lean, strong, gorgeous. His gaze instantly finding mine as an uncertain smile lights up his face.
“Listen—” I force myself to look away as I retrieve a small envelope from my pocket and shove it into Lita’s hand. “I’m not really sure how this Secret Santa thing works, but can you give this to Dace?”
Xotichl leans toward it, attempting to read its energy, while Lita pinches it between her index finger and thumb, her voice as disdainful as her expression. “What’d you do, Santos—write him a twenty-dollar check?”
“Just—” I turn toward Dace. He’s heading toward me, only a few feet away. Then I turn back to Lita, my voice hurried as I say, “Can you please do it?”
“Whatever. Your wish is my command.” She tucks the envelope under her arm as I shoot for the back door. Calling after me to say, “Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I put my money toward these boots, cool, huh?”
But I just keep running, plowing through the exit before Dace can reach me.
twenty-nine
Dace
When I’m ready to face her, I push through the door. Calling on all of my senses, just like Leftfoot taught me, to locate Daire in the throng. And the second I see her, everything stops.
The noise dims.
The light fades.
The room goes quiet and hazy except for the nimbus of soft golden light that surrounds her.
She’s beautiful.
I already knew that, of course. Yet seeing her now, with her hair tumbling over her shoulders, and her gaze burning on mine, I’m instantly transported to the day at the Enchanted Spring. Reminded of the way she looked lying beneath me, just after we …
I shake my head, check my pocket again to ensure that her gift is still there and make my way toward her. Covering more than half the room in just a handful of steps, only to watch her turn on her heel and bolt for the back door, as Lita steps before me and says, “This is for you.” She shoves a small, rectangular envelope into my hand. “Please keep in mind that it’s not from me. So, if it’s as lame as I think, don’t shoot the messenger. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She waves to someone across the room and leaves me flipping the envelope back and forth in my palm. It’s from Daire, that much I know. But since I can’t sense its contents, I’m reluctant to open it.
Is it some kind of official breakup letter?
Some change-of-heart memo that states: I know you think you broke up with me, but really I’m breaking up with you—?
Is that why she ran out the back door the second she saw me?
Or am I just being paranoid?
“Maybe you should open it and see,” Xotichl says, reading into my energy as she comes over to join me.
Of course, she’s right. No use standing here guessing. I slip a finger under the flap, and retrieve a heavy piece of cream-colored paper featuring a hand-scrawled map, which, though it doesn’t make any immediate sense, at least is not as bad as I imagined.
“Can I guess?” Xotichl asks, grinning when Auden comes up from behind her and plants a kiss on her cheek.
I hand her the map and stare down at my feet. I can’t watch them together. Their happiness makes me long for Daire so much it aches.
Xotichl screws her mouth to the side and runs her fingertips back and forth across the page. “Oh, it’s a map! Like a treasure hunt—how fun!” She returns it to me.
“How do you do that?” It’s not the first time I’ve asked such a thing.
But, like always, Xotichl just laughs as Auden jabs a thumb over his shoulder and says, “I think she went that way.”
I make for the door. Pushing past everyone who gets in my way, eager to be with Daire once again, see what she’s planned. When Phyre purposely inserts herself into my path and in a whispered voice says, “Hey, Dace.”
Her lips begin a slow curl as her gaze travels over me. But I don’t have time for this, and I’m quick to tell her as much. “Yeah, hey. Listen, I’m kind of in a hurry, so—” I start to move past her, but just like Leandro did in the alleyway, Phyre shadows me, insisting on having her say.
“Can’t you spare a few seconds for an old friend?” She cocks her head to the side, her eyes gleaming flirtatiously, but it’s wasted on me. Daire is my present. My future. Phyre is history. “It’s been such a long time.” She adopts the kind of timid demeanor that just doesn’t suit her. She’s not shy. Never has been. This is how she operates.
I mumble something incoherent and check my pocket again.
“So why do I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me?” She places a hand on either hip, determined to keep me from where I most need to be.
I rub my lips together and glance all around. Seeing Lita glaring at me from halfway across the dance floor, Xotichl turning toward me with a curious tilt of her head, as Phyre stands before me, demanding an answer.
“Look—” I start, the words dissolving on my tongue the instant she steps closer. Gazing at me through a thick fringe of lashes, her catlike eyes tilting up at the sides. “A lot’s changed,” I final
ly manage. “Actually, no, scratch that—everything’s changed, and I think you should know that.” I meet her gaze straight on, hoping that’ll suffice. Let her down easy and work as my Get Out of Jail Free card, so I can get on with my night.
“You’re right.” She smiles, unfazed by my words, ignoring the determined expression I wear on my face. “A lot has changed. Including me.” She sort of swivels before me, encouraging her dress to sway around her legs in a way that’s meant to be enticing. Begging me to see her, appreciate her, in the way that I used to.
I turn away. Steadfastly refuse her. Wishing I could stomp out this tired old memory she insists on resurrecting.
“And I haven’t just changed on the outside,” she says, her determination proving to be a good match for my own. “The inside’s different as well. And I get the feeling you’re different too.”
I huff under my breath. Swipe a hand across my chin. This is ridiculous. Daire is out there somewhere, waiting for me in the freezing cold night, while I’m stuck inside this stupid club, trapped in a nightmare visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past.
I lift my gaze to meet hers. Determined to end this quickly and easily, I say, “Phyre, it’s good to see you. Really. But, I’m not sure what you’re after. We were kids when we—when you left. We’re not kids anymore.”
She inches closer, runs a purple painted nail from my shoulder to my elbow. The chill of her touch penetrating all the way through my heavy down jacket and the wool sweater beneath, leaving my skin pricked with cold. Her voice soft and lilting, she says, “Funny, I didn’t feel like a kid when I was with you.”
I flinch at her touch, aware of her sharp intake of breath as her hand falls back to her side. But I don’t feel badly. It’s all coming back to me now. The way she manipulates. Calculates. The wave of regret that washed over me the instant it was over.
“Are you well?” I figure I owe her the courtesy of asking.
She nods.
“And your dad—is he well too?”
“He gets by.” She shrugs, tilts her head from side to side.
“Okay then. I’m glad to hear it, but I really have to—”
“You really have to go. I know.” She stares at me for a long time. Too long. Her features darkening, she steps aside and says, “Don’t let me stop you.”
I push past her. Push into the night. Glad for the bite of frigid air blasting my hands, my face. Overcome with relief to finally be rid of her.
After a quick consult with the map, I navigate the path Daire outlined. Stopping before two long rows of glowing luminarias lighting either side of a trail that ultimately leads to the place where she stands huddled against the bitter night air.
When she sees me—when her eyes meet mine—it’s all I can do to keep from sprinting down the trail and taking her into my arms. But I force myself to walk it instead. Force myself to take the time to appreciate the stage that she’s set.
“Merry Christmas,” she says, once I’m standing before her. Her cheeks flushed and luminous, her eyes flickering with amusement. “I’m your not-so-Secret Santa.”
I smile. Content to just stand there and fill my eyes with the glorious sight of her.
Screw Cade.
Screw all the Richters.
This is all that matters.
This beautiful girl standing before me.
I’m hollow without her. Just barely existing. I know that now.
And while I know that what we’re doing is right—that this is the way it has to be until Cade is stopped—I also know that when this is over, there will be no more shutting her out of my life. The last few days without her were hell, with thoughts of her haunting me at every turn.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find a way to make this work.
Or die trying, anyway.
I find her eyes once again. Realizing she’s waiting for me to react to her news, I say, “Oh, and I’m yours.”
“Really?” She cocks her head in a way that encourages a spray of curls to fall across her cheek. And it takes all of my strength not to pull her tightly to me and sink into the softness of her. “Well, actually, Lita drew your name, not me. But then she asked me to trade, so I did.”
“Lita pulled the same thing on me.” My eyes fix on her mouth—those soft inviting lips I ache to taste again and again. “I hear she puts her name in twice so she can spend the money on herself.”
“So the whole thing was rigged?” Daire grins in a way that’s infectious. “And here I thought it was fated.” Her eyes move over me, leaving a trail of warmth that starts at my head and wanders all the way to my feet.
“This is really beautiful.” My voice sounds hoarse, unused. “I can’t think of a better gift than to find you waiting at the end of a candlelit path.”
“I’m not your gift.” She smiles. “I’m not that poetic.”
“No?” I take another look around. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“This is your gift.” She hooks a thumb toward the chain-link fence at her back.
I squint, try to think of a reply, but its meaning is lost. So I go the jokey route and say, “I’m pretty sure you’ve gone way past the twenty-dollar limit. The permits alone—” My words halted by the finger she presses to my lips.
“Not the fence, silly—this.” She flicks the small golden lock that’s fixed to one of the links.
Still, I look at her. Not really getting it—but not caring either. My lips burn from her touch. It’s all I can think about.
“You probably don’t realize it, but today marks six weeks since we first got together. And, well, I wanted to observe it in some way. This is pretty much a first for me.”
“It’s a first for me too.” I want so badly to kiss her, right here, right now. But something tells me to wait. There’s still more to say.
“Is that because you’re usually long gone by this point?” She chases the words with a grin, but it doesn’t take much to spot the vein of worry that pulses just underneath.
“That’s Cade’s game, not mine,” I say, hoping to convince her I will do whatever it takes to be with her—now and forever. I was a fool that night in my kitchen. I won’t be anymore.
She nods, takes a deep breath, and says, “Anyway, I wanted to do something special, and then I remembered this.”
She points to the lock again, but I still don’t get the significance.
“There’s a place in Paris with an old chain-link fence, much like this one.” She hooks her finger around one of the links and rattles it for emphasis—the move, along with her words, leaving me even more perplexed than before. “Only that fence, the one in Paris, is completely covered with locks. The entire thing is crammed chock full of locks of all kinds. And, well, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Or at least it is once you realize what it is the locks symbolize.”
I look at her, clueless as to where this is going.
“It’s a fence for lovers.” Her voice softens. “It’s a place where couples go to declare their love for each other. As a show of devotion, they attach the lock to the fence, and then each person gets a key. If at any point one of them decides their feelings have changed, they’re free to use their key to remove the lock. But from the looks of that fence, it rarely happens.” She stares down at her feet, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is—I’m declaring my love for you. And this lock, on this fence, is a symbol of that love. I love you, Dace Whitefeather, and whether we’re together or apart, it doesn’t change the essential truth. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered over the last few days, it’s that suppressing my love for you doesn’t make it go away or weaken it in the slightest.” Her lips lift, but her eyes suggest the tinge of sadness that dwells just under the surface. “I know what we’re up against, and I know you know too. But—” She takes a deep breath, and it’s all I can do to stand patiently before her, not crush my lips to hers. “But the thing is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be tog
ether. And, well, I was hoping you feel the same. But in case you’re not on board…”
She dips inside her top, retrieving one of two long black cords with a small gold key attached to its end, which she’s quick to drape around my neck. Leaving it to lie against my chest, just like the one that she wears.
I pinch the key between my fingers. “I won’t use it.” My gaze burns on hers. “I will wear this for eternity. They’ll bury me in it.”
She bites her bottom lip, as her eyes go so bright and glittery, her cheeks so flushed and pink, I’m just about to kiss her. Just about to pull her into my arms and taste her in the way I could only dream about yesterday. When I remember I have something for her.
I place the small package into her hands, watching as she works the stone free of the red-and-green wrapping paper. “It’s a—”
“I know what it is.” She rubs her finger over the top, then flips it over and examines the back. “It’s your version of the lock and key.” She smiles at me.
“It’s also meant to protect you, keep you from harm. It’s an amulet. May I?”
I hook my finger around the soft buckskin pouch that hangs from her neck. Waiting for her to nod her consent before I loosen the string and open the top just wide enough to add the stone to her collection of talismans. My fingers lingering in the place where it lies. Finding it impossible to pull away now that I’ve touched her.
Mesmerized by the warmth of her skin meeting mine. The rhythm of her heart beating hard against my palm. Her breath coming soft and fast as she stands just before me. Looking so beautiful, so radiant—I draw her into my arms and cover her mouth with my own.
Aware of nothing more than the way her body melts and conforms against mine—the way she returns my kiss with an equal amount of desire and need. Allowing everything else to skew out of focus—Cade, Leandro, the Rabbit Hole—screw it all. This is all that I care about.
Daire.
In my arms.
Loving me and needing me as much as I love and need her.
She breaks the kiss, catching her breath as she says, “I’ve loved you since the first time you appeared in my dreams—long before I even heard of Enchantment.”