by Anthology
He nodded. “I am sure. Nyx knew as much of this world as I did, he should not have been able to give you memories of television and cars. You lived here. These are your parents.”
Azoth put an emphasis on those words that suggested he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with saying them. He was still getting used to so many strange technologies, and he had a good point to top it all off with.
If he was still figuring this shit out, and that was after living here for several months, then it only made sense that Nyx wouldn’t have known anything at all when he’d cast the spell that had saved Diana’s life.
And then she felt her stomach drop. “Oh no! I still don’t know what I’m supposed to give to you.”
These paintings were so perfect. How was she ever supposed to compete against these? What in the hell could she say or do or give to Azoth that would make up for it.
"You need to give me nothing. This is a night for promises, yes?"
That caught her off guard, especially since she was holding something in her hands from her husband that was most definitely not a promise. "Well, to be honest, I knew what I wanted to promise you, but now it just looks kind of weak compared to this."
Azoth smiled. "And what was my wife wanting to promise me?"
He looked too...cute. Cute in a masculine way, of course. And so eager that, as embarrassing as it was, she couldn't stop herself from telling him.
"I was just going to promise you that I'd...be a good wife."
Her face became so hot that she knew right where all the red was as it moved up her neck and face. She couldn't look at Azoth after that.
And then he was chuckling at her, like there was something funny.
Her first instinct was to get angry. "You're laughing at me?"
And then her anger seemed to make him laugh even harder, even as he shook his head. "Of course not, sakkra," he said, and then had to tighten his arms around her waist when she tried to get up.
"You are quite the adorable one," he said, nuzzling her hair and neck, as though she wasn't fuming at him right now.
"I still don't see what's so funny," she growled.
"You already made me that promise when we wed each other."
Diana frowned, and then she remembered.
Oh. Great.
"So I have no promise for you, and no present. That's just perfect."
“You’ve been making it snow more than usual lately. That is gift enough,” Azoth said.
Diana frowned, still angry at herself and Azoth, and now a little confused. “What?”
Azoth pointed to the window. With the help of the icicle lights hanging off the roof, it was easy to see the fat snow flakes as they fell, fast and heavy.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Of course you are,” Azoth said. “Diana Winters, twelfth daughter of Maab, and born in the Winter season in the twelfth month. That’s you.” He looked to the window with a fond smile. “I always liked the snow.”
Diana looked from Azoth and then to the window, and then back and forth again. It seemed improbable that she was somehow causing the weather to change enough for it to snow, but after everything that had happened, it wasn’t so hard to believe. She'd even thought of this, figured it might be a possibility, but nothing ever seemed to happen, so she'd let it go.
Now that Azoth had pointed it out, she couldn't. “That’s me?”
He nodded and kissed her on the mouth. “Indeed. Thank you for the gift, sakkra.”
Diana would ask him later how exactly she was supposedly doing this. For now, she was content to just soak up the praise and affection that her handsome, dragon husband wanted to bestow upon her for the gift.
Good start to the new year.
The End
About Mandy Rosko
Mandy Rosko lives as a hermit with her scared of everything dog, and she works in Ottawa, Ontario. Every once in a while she peels herself away from writing and Internet surfing to socialize with real people. She loves videogames, Sailor Moon, and her dog. mandyrosko.com
Not a Gentleman’s Christmas by Candice Gilmer
A Mythical Knights Side Story
Saving her from her curse is a gentleman's job. He, however, is no gentleman.
Ruthie, cursed by a djinn, has been trapped in a recipe box for seventy-five years, and this Christmas is her last chance to break the curse. She assumes that when Lee opens the box, he would help her escape the djinn’s magic. Because that's what a gentleman does.
She learns very quickly, though, that Lee is no gentleman, and his wolf-side is positively beastly.
And she might even like it.
1
Seventy-five years ago, Christmas Eve
The house rang out as Evelyn Silverstein’s younger sister sang a Christmas carol. The girl’s voice was like an angel’s, filling the house with light and music.
As was tradition after church, friends and family met at the Silverstein home for snacks and carols. All would gather around the piano as Mrs. Silverstein played and everyone would join in singing the Christmas tunes.
At least, almost everyone did.
Ruthie Martin shut the attic door, obscuring out the noise as Evelyn fetched the bottle, and the two sat on the floor. Ruthie smiled at her lovely friend, whose pin curls were perfect, framing her face at the right angle, looking as though she wore a crown.
Somewhat fitting, since it was always Evelyn who seemed to have the best ideas.
Most of the time, anyway.
Tonight though, Ruthie’s heart hammered in her chest, as she fiddled with the buttons on her polka dot dress. Ruthie tucked her leg under her lap as they huddled together.
“Are you sure it will work, Evelyn?” Ruthie fluffed her skirt over her leg, her fingers trembling with nervous energy. “Can we trust him?”
“Well, no. But what fun would it be not to try?” Evelyn sat the silly little brass bottle she’d found at the auction in between them. Who would suspect it held anything more than dust?
She removed the quark and a blast of cool air slammed into both girls, blowing their skirts about.
Ruthie scrambled to keep her lap covered as the blue skinned djinn appeared in the room. He stretched like he had the first time he’d popped out of the bottle, his long black hair a sharp contrast to his blue skin. The moonlight outside caught the silver bracelets on his arms as he spread out, flashing in the night. Silver pants covered his lower extremities, but his feet remained bare.
So odd, yet the chill had never seemed to bother him.
“Ah, ladies. How lovely to see you both.” He sat between them on the floor, his legs crossed and his knees brushing Ruthie.
She pushed herself away from him. Regardless of what Evelyn said, she didn’t trust the djinn. She’d heard all the stories of old about the beasts—the djinn were not to be believed, no matter the deal they promised.
And magic always came with a price.
The djinn noticed how she slid away and he raised his eyebrows with smile, like he found her need for propriety to be quite foolish.
“Malik,” Evelyn said. “You seem to be more chipper today than you were before.”
He smiled. “I assume you have conjured me to fulfill your wishes.” His voice shifted. “Unless you have other ideas,” he said, giving Evelyn a salacious grin.
Evelyn blushed and looked away, her gaze jumping to Ruthie’s.
Ruthie shied away from the djinn. Was this a good idea? She met her friend’s gaze, but her expression must have solidified Evelyn’s resolve.
Evelyn sat up straighter and tried to stare down the creature. “Are you prepared to give us what we want?”
“Of course.” His words were slick and smooth, and they made the hairs on Ruthie’s neck stand up. “Are you prepared to pay the price?” Malik had been very specific about how they were to pay for their wishes. He promised them anything they desired, in return, they had to do something for him.
Something that made Ruthie very nervous.
; Evelyn, however, didn’t seem to mind as much. “We are.”
Ruthie bit her lip, and when Malik’s gaze turned toward her, she nodded. Her gut screamed she should run and not let Malik grant her a wish, but she didn’t dare move and leave her friend alone with the djinn.
“Then let me hear your words, ladies.”
Evelyn took Ruthie’s hand.
Together they could handle this.
After all, how much trouble could they get into with their wishes? They weren’t asking for fame or fortune. They’d talked for several days about what to ask for, trying to think of all the possible ways it could go wrong. They were pretty sure they’d worked out all the likely avenues of consequences.
They felt confident they knew what they were doing.
And now it was time.
So why did Ruthie suddenly want to stop?
Evelyn squeezed her fingers.
No chance now, she thought.
Ruthie turned to look the djinn square in the eye.
“We wish you free, Malik,” both girls said in unison.
The metal bracelets fell away from his wrists, disappearing in a spark of silver, and then a strange glow infused him—like a beacon in their room, but only for a moment. He seemed to be bigger, growing before them into an even larger man.
He tipped his head back and cackled.
Oh no, Ruthie thought. Her stomach roiled. What have we done?
Joyous Christmas carols from downstairs crept into the room, the families oblivious to the magic occurring up in the attic.
When Malik met the girl’s gazes, there was malevolence in his eyes. “Now ladies, you had wishes, I believe.”
Ruthie shook her head.
Evelyn squeezed her hand. “See, it will be fine Ruthie. He didn’t run away.”
Which had been one of Ruthie’s fears—if they released him first as he demanded, he would disappear and be gone forever, unleashed on the world.
“I must fulfill my end of the bargain,” Malik said, raising his eyebrow to Ruthie. “What are your wishes?”
Evelyn gestured to the two of them. “We want to open a restaurant together.”
Malik raised his eyebrow. “You do not need me for that, miss.”
“But with your magic, our restaurant will be irresistible,” Evelyn said. “I wish for the ability to always know the way to make my business a success, regardless of the circumstances.” She sat taller as she spoke. Her family owned a hardware store, and while it was doing well, her parents fretted over every little thing, terrified they’d make a mistake and end up having to sell their store.
Evelyn didn’t want that worry.
Malik raised his black eyebrow, then turned his gaze to Ruthie. “And you?”
Ruthie’d thought long and hard, and after watching her grandmother’s mind slip away over the years, unable to remember how to make traditional family favorites such as their stollen bread, Ruthie knew what she had to ask for.
“Well, a restaurant is as only as good as its food. I know how to cook, so I only wish I never forget how to make my recipes.”
Malik nodded, and his gaze darted from one to another. “I see you ladies have put a great deal of thought into this. I admire that, not picking out of greed, but out of necessity.”
The girls glanced at each other, smiling.
Maybe this would work out okay, after all, Ruthie thought. Maybe all djinn weren’t monsters, like her grandmother had always told her.
Then Malik’s face transformed, revealing a sly, evil grin. “Too bad you did not think about all the possibilities.” He started waving his hands in the air.
Chills ran over Ruthie.
“What do you mean? We thought of everything,” Evelyn said. “We did as you asked, we freed you. Now you have to grant our wishes.”
“And I will. I most certainly will. You will be an incredibly talented business woman, Evelyn. And you, Ruthie, will never forget a recipe.” Fog danced around the bottle Malik had been in.
Steps on the stairs made the girls turn toward the door. The last thing Ruthie remembered was seeing her mother open the attic door, just as the magic sucked her into a small metal recipe box.
2
Present Day, Six days before Christmas
Lee Reynolds jerked awake. He rubbed his brow, sliding his finger over his hairline, darting across the widow’s peak—the marking of his beastly heritage.
Sometimes he hated being a damn werewolf.
The images from the nightmare still danced behind his eyes. He should be used to them—he’d been having the same awful dreams since he was a teenager.
Still sucked.
He sighed in the dark bedroom, and wondered if he’d ever outgrow them.
After all, his mate died eight years ago. Shouldn’t he be done having nightmares about her?
He climbed out of bed and stretched. The beast growled under his skin, wanting to be released.
Needing it.
Unlike his brother and the other wolves in the family, his beast needed to come out more often. He’d never been able to control that side of himself as well as the others.
He glanced at his hand and the short, stumpy middle finger. One tiny moment of wandering thoughts, of fantasy, and he had fucked up his hand.
Not exactly the best thing for a chef.
He shook his head. Maybe it was time for a run.
The moon wasn’t due to go full for another twelve days or so—meaning it would likely make New Year’s Eve interesting, with all the wolves locked up in cages for the night.
He and his siblings would likely go to the Drigan pack compound and spend the night with the rest of the pack.
Even his pack didn’t know what to do with him and his beast. The Drigans prided themselves on being able to control their wolf-selves.
Lee had to fight his beast every single day, or so it seemed.
Right now Lee’s wolf burned, and he needed to set it free. Maybe the cold winter air would clear his head.
He headed toward the rear of the house—
“Jesus Christ, Lee,” Kevin snapped from the couch.
Lee glanced at his brother. “Fuck off,” he snarled back.
He’d forgotten Kevin was here. Kevin had a medical internship the island of Avalon for mythical medicine. Not many werewolves were accepted to study there, so Kevin had leapt at the chance, hoping while he was there, he’d find his mate.
Since he’d come home alone for the holidays, Lee assumed his brother had failed.
“At least put on some damn clothes. I could have had a girl out here,” Kevin said.
“Whatever,” Lee said, and headed for the back door. The beast was desperate, and he needed to release it. Get it moving. Now.
Kevin cut him off in the kitchen. “No. You gotta be more courteous of your guests, man. I mean, seriously. What’s wrong with you?” Kevin swung at him, smacking him on the arm.
“Move,” Lee growled.
“Make me, baby brother.”
Lee gritted his teeth. Clenched his fists.
“You gonna punch me, Stumpy?”
Lee didn’t punch his big brother.
No, he slammed him into the floor. Kevin howled, and it was on.
They tore into one another, punches and kicks—nope, there was no half-assed fighting with the Reynolds boys. They went at it ferociously, the worse the better.
Kevin flung Lee through the sliding glass door. Glass shattered everywhere.
The beast erupted from Lee.
Kevin landed on him, transformed into full beast as well. They were all over one another, ripping and biting, and trying to tear each other apart.
The two tumbled back and forth in the snow. Anger surged through Lee as they fought. The nightmare’s horror mixed with frustration at being treated like a kid by his brother again, and tangled together with general holiday and work stress, made Lee a ticking time-bomb.
Explosion was inevitable.
Tonight, it was on Kevin. The two
animals didn’t hold back, determined to make each other bleed.
A coppery smell hit Lee.
Blood…
Kevin leaped away.
Both beasts panted hard in the freezing cold.
Kevin slipped back to human form. “Are you fucking done?”
Lee transformed as well, the cold snow feeling good against his burning skin. “You’re a guest, douche. You don’t get to tell me what to do at two in the morning in my own home.”
The two brothers glared at each other.
Kevin looked back at the house, and shook his head.
“Son of a bitch,” Lee muttered. One side of the sliding glass door was shattered.
Kevin laughed. “Guess what you’re getting for Christmas.”
“Fuck.” The cold was finally starting to sink in, and Lee shivered.
“Got any plywood around here?” Kevin asked.
Lee gestured to the shed. “Should have some.”
While a pain in the ass, at least his brother had taken his mind off the nightmares.
For the moment, anyway.
3
Six days before Christmas
Lee sat at the little kitchen table, an array of specialized cooking knives spread before him, the metal reflecting the twinkling Christmas lights on the tree in the living room. He ran his sharpener over the edge of the largest blade, to make sure it was perfect…
“You go to bed with them too?” Kevin asked as he walked in. The black eye he’d received during their fight had faded to a bit of a shadow.
Lee’s own shiner was pretty much gone as well. One good thing about werewolf metabolism—stuff healed a little faster.
“All the better to slice your throat, big brother.”
“Lovely Christmas spirit you have.” Kevin pulled a beer from the fridge.
Lee winced as he heard the bottles in the door topple over. “Just once can you not jerk the fridge open and knock everything over?”