The Wicked and the Wondrous

by Christine Feehan

  Victoria put up her umbrella and made a little face. “People are so silly sometimes.”

  “I hope you’re not trying to ask me to be Santa Claus this year, I’m more afraid of the kids than I am of aliens.” Matt sounded as stern as he dared with his mother.

  Kate made a move to retreat back into the house, but Matt held her firmly as if she were his only refuge. The cold air hardened Kate’s nipples into tight buds, and she was acutely aware she wore no bra beneath Matt’s shirt. The drizzle was penetrating straight through the material and turning the silk blouse beneath it transparent. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her smile firmly in place.

  “There aren’t any aliens,” Victoria said, exasperated. “And no, you don’t have to play Santa. I know better than to ask any of you boys. You’d frighten the children with your nonsense.”

  “Not Dad!” Matt suddenly sounded authoritative, and Kate looked up. “Dad, the doctor told you not to overdo.”

  “Playing Santa Claus wouldn’t overdo anything.” Harold was clearly annoyed. “And no, it isn’t me. We had someone come forward, but he wishes to remain anonymous. It would ruin all of his fun if I revealed his identity.”

  Matt followed his parents to their car, taking Kate with him. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

  “The last man you’d ever expect,” Victoria said primly.

  “The last man I’d ever expect to play Santa would be Old Man Mars.” Matt laughed. “Can’t you see Danny’s face? He’d run from Santa.”

  Victoria and Harold looked at one another and burst out laughing. Victoria waved gaily at Kate. Matt stared after them. “You don’t think they meant that mean old man is going to play Santa.”

  “I can’t imagine it. I think they were teasing you. Do you have the car keys? I’m getting cold, and I have to stop by my house to pick up some clothes before we go to the hospital.”

  “I’ve got them. Come on. Let’s get you out of the rain.” Matt drew her bra from his jacket pocket and held it out to her. “I’m sorry, Katie. I couldn’t stop thinking about playing out my little fantasy of being able to touch you when I was taking you home. It was childish of me.”

  Kate merely looked at the peach-colored bra in his outstretched hand, but made no move to take it. “And you wanted to be able to touch me how?” She walked past him to the car. There was a distinct sway to her beautiful rear, one he couldn’t resist. Kate settled into his car, slowly unbuttoned the wet overshirt, and allowed the edges to gape open to reveal the transparent silk blouse underneath. She leaned back against the seat.

  Matt drove slowly along the coastal highway, fighting for air when there was none in the car. The shape of her breasts was not only outlined beneath the see-through material, but highlighted. “Kate, you’re an incredible woman.”

  “I’m a lucky woman. I rather like your fantasies. By all means, tell me whenever you get one.”

  He couldn’t resist. Matt slipped his hand inside her blouse, cupped the soft, creamy flesh in his palm. His knuckle rubbed gently over her breast, the pads of his fingers possessive as he caressed her body. Right at that moment he could think of a hundred fantasies. He turned the car onto the drive leading to the bluff overlooking the sea. The moment he parked, he caught the back of her head and held her still while he devoured her mouth.

  They spent an hour in the car, laughing like children, necking like teenagers, wildly happy as they held hands, touched and kissed and whispered of dreams and hopes and erotic fantasies.

  When they arrived at the Drake house, no one was home; the sisters were all at the hospital. There was a note for Kate telling her Elle was doing much better and instructing her to join them when she could. Kate took the time to shower. Matt joined her and spent a long while leisurely lathering soap over her and rinsing her off. He made love to her under the spray of water, then dried her off with large towels. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her while she dressed. “I’ve never been happier, Kate,” he admitted, as she pinned the thick length of hair on top of her head into her “perfect Kate” style.

  “Me either,” she answered, and leaned over to kiss him.

  Matt caught her hand and dragged her through the house into the living room. “Kate, do you love me? You know I love you. I tell you. I show you. I want to spend my life with you, and I’ve made no secret about that. Do you love me?”

  Kate nearly stopped breathing. She touched his face. “How could you not know, Matthew? I love you so much I ache with it sometimes.”

  “Then why won’t you agree to marry me? I don’t think your family objects to me, and obviously my family would welcome it.”

  She let her breath out slowly. “I have some things to work out, Matt. I want to marry you. I do. But I have to be certain it’s right for you. That I’m right for you.”

  “Katie. Honey. I know you’re right for me.” He looked around the room. “Where’s that damned snowglobe anyway?” He retrieved it from the shelf.

  Kate took it out of his hands. “You only get one wish, Matt, and you’ve had yours.” She went to place the globe back on the shelf, but it came alive in her hands, the fog swirling. Waiting. Kate closed her eyes and made her wish. She couldn’t stop herself. She wanted Matthew Granite more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  Matt said nothing, asking her no questions. He simply took her hand in a gesture of solidarity.

  Kate and Matt spent most of the afternoon in the hospital with Kate’s sisters in Elle’s room. Matt and Damon played a game of chess while the seven sisters caught up on news. Joley helped Damon, and when Matt expressed disapproval, Abbey immediately took Matt’s side. They did their best to entertain Elle, who looked bruised and very young. Her bright red hair tumbled around her white face and heightened her pale skin and deepened the purple in the bruises. She was in good spirits but weak and still had a headache.

  Matt and Kate left the hospital in the evening to meet the Granites at the Grange, where most of the townspeople were bringing their children for photos with Santa and a small party.

  The Grange hall was packed with parents and children. “Jingle Bells” blared through the building, mistletoe was hung in every conceivable place, and holly decorated the tables laden with cookies and punch. A fake mantel went along the entire length of one wall with holly, candles, and tiny sleighs filled with candy canes adorning the top. Rows of stockings hung on gleaming hooks. The silver-tipped fir tree nearly reached the ceiling and was covered in lights, ornaments, and a multitude of white angels with silver wings.

  “The ladies at the arts and crafts shop have been busy,” Matt whispered.

  Kate shushed him, but her eyes were laughing. Several elves hurried past them, bells tinkling from their hats and ankles. Kate and Matt followed the elves through the crowd to the back of the building, where Santa Claus sat in a high-backed chair surrounded by more elves and a reindeer that looked suspiciously like a dog with plastic antlers attached to his head. The line to visit Santa was long, small children clutching parents’ hands and staring with large round eyes at the jolly old man. The Santa suit fit perfectly, and the white beard and mustache seemed natural, both bushy enough to hide the face successfully. Matt tried to get close enough to get a good look at the Santa. Several preteenagers rushed past him laughing loudly, tossing popcorn at each other.

  “Do you think it’s Old Man Mars?” Matt whispered.

  “How could it be?” Kate asked. “He hates Christmas.”

  “Right height. I could tell if he were talking loud or maybe even by the way he walks.” Matt weaved his way through the small children.

  “Hey!” A young boy with red hair protested. “No cutting in.”

  “I just wanted to ask Santa if he’d give me Kate for Christmas,” Matt explained.

  Unimpressed, the boy wrinkled his nose, and all of his friends made faces. “Well, you got to stand in line like everyone else.”

  Kate laughed and dragged Matt away from Santa Claus. He spotted
Inez and pulled Kate toward her. “If anyone knows who Santa Claus is, it’ll be Inez. She knows everything.”

  “Doesn’t that come under the heading of gossip?”

  “News, Katie. How can you even use the word gossip?” Matt stopped moving abruptly and brought her up short, staring out the window. He bit out a string of curses. “The damned fog is rolling in, Kate. It’s coming right this way.”

  Kate looked at him, then looked around at the children. “I don’t want people to panic and run for their cars to get away from here. No one would be able to drive in the fog. I’ll find a way to distract the kids.” She hurried toward Santa Claus, whispering softly to the children so that the throng parted like the Red Sea to give her access to the jolly old man sitting with a child on his lap. She leaned in and spoke to him.

  From a distance, Matt watched Santa stiffen, listen some more, and nod. Kate straightened up and directed the children into a large circle. Santa gave out candy canes, patting heads and laughing as he did so. Several mothers began distributing cookies and punch while Kate started an enthralling Christmas story. Matt had never seen anyone hold an entire room in her hand, but there was no sound other than the faint background of Christmas music and Kate’s spellbinding voice. He found himself caught up in the sheer beauty of the magical tone, even when the fog began to seep through the cracks of the doors and windows.

  There was no way to keep the fog out. It was only the magic of Kate’s voice, the anonymous Santa Claus’s cheerful punctuation of ho, ho, ho woven cleverly into the storyline, and the Granite reputation in the community that kept panic from spreading as the gray-white vapor filled the room, bringing with it the scent and feel of the sea. Kate smoothly incorporated the fog into the storyline, having the children hold hands and interact with Santa’s ho, ho, ho. The children did so with enthusiasm, laughing wildly at the antics of Kate’s characters in the fog. Matt realized she was creating the illusion that the fog was deliberate, a part of the story she was telling, used for effect. He could see parents relaxing, thinking Kate had found a way to keep the children from fearing the incoming fog, a part of life for anyone who lived on the coast.

  It seemed hours to Matt, watching the fog churning, swirling in deeper shades of gray, spinning when there was no breeze to create the effect, yet it was only a few minutes before the fog began a hasty retreat…almost as if it couldn’t take the sound of Kate’s voice. It was a silly notion. Fog had no ears to listen, but it also shouldn’t have been able to leave footprints in sand or do damage to property. He made his way closer to Kate, knowing she would pay a steep price using her energy to keep such a large crowd under the spell of her voice. As he moved toward her, he felt something in the fog, something tangible brush against his arm.

  Matt whirled toward it, hands going up in a fighter’s defensive position, but there were only coils of vapor surrounding him. He heard a sound, a growling voice muttering a warning. A chill went down his spine. He felt the touch of death on him, bony fingers reaching for him, or someone who belonged to him. The hair on his body stood up in reaction to the half moan, half growl that could have been wind, but there was no wind to generate the sound. Matt knew it was a warning, but the words made no sense.

  Anger was impotent against fog. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t wrestle it; he couldn’t even shoot it. How could he protect Kate when he couldn’t see or get his hands on the culprit? He stood very still as the vapor simply rolled from the building, leaving behind the soft Christmas music and the laughter of the children. He looked around the room, at the sunny faces, at the tree and decorations. Why had the fog come, only to recede without incident?

  He made his way to Kate’s side, slipping his arm around her waist to lend her strength. She sent the children to the tables of food, a smile on her face, shadows in her eyes. Laughter picked up as if the fog had never been; but Matt continued to survey the room, inch by inch, concerned there had to more, something they were all missing.

  Kate leaned into him as they looked out the window. “It’s heading out to sea on its own. Why would it do that? Why would it come here and leave?”

  Matt watched the children eating. Santa Claus was eating. “Could it have poisoned the food some way?” he asked, his heart in his throat at the thought. His parents were seated at a table with Danny, Trudy Garrett, and her young son.

  “I doubt it, Matthew, how could it?”

  “How could he do any of the things he’s been doing?” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Santa Claus is a symbol of Christmas, right? What does he represent?”

  “You don’t think he came to attack the man playing the part of Santa, then decided against it, do you?” Her anxious gaze followed the burly man in the red-and-white suit.

  Matt shook his head. “I feel danger, Katie. When I feel it this strong, it’s here, close by. Tell me what Santa represents.”

  She rubbed her throbbing temples. “Goodwill, I suppose. He represents goodwill and generosity. He gives presents, stuffs stockings, eats the children’s milk and cookies.”

  “He spreads goodwill among the people and is generous, teaching by example to be generous.” Matt tugged on her hand, moved toward the tree where Santa’s pack lay. He peered inside. There were a few netted candy cane stockings holding small toys, candy, and various small personal items the town always generously donated for the event. Santa had slipped most of the candy cane net stockings into the children’s stockings hanging from the fake mantel earlier when he’d first arrived, so that each child would have something to take home after the party.

  Matt went to the brightly colored stockings, each with a child’s name stitched in bold letters across the top. Kate’s fingers tightened around his. She already knew, just as he did. They peered inside. She drew back, stifling a cry, looking at him with fear. Inside each stocking, the fog had added to Santa’s generous gift. A mass of sand and sea bugs writhed in hideous black balls in the toes of the stockings. All were damp with seawater and smelled faintly of the noxious odor the fog seemed to leave behind. Crushed shells and spiny sea anemone, kelp and small crabs were mixed with the wiggling insects.

  Santa Claus joined them, staring at the mess while all around them children ate and laughed and played. “We have to get rid of these. Some of these creatures are venomous.”

  Matt glanced quickly at the man, recognizing the voice. Old Man Mars was indeed playing Santa. “You’re right. I’ll get a couple of the men, and we’ll get the stockings out of here before the children start trying to collect them. Kate.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down before you fall down. I’ll take you home when we’re through here.”

  “To my house,” she said in a weary voice. “I need to go to my house.”

  He nodded, his gut knotting tightly.

  chapter

  12

  A candle burns with an eerie glow,

  As it melts, the wax does flow

  “THE THING IN THE FOG SPOKE TO ME.” MATT made the announcement after the Drake sisters had settled Elle firmly in the living room. It was late afternoon before the doctors let her go home, and her family had been so anxious, Matt had steered clear of the subject of the danger in the fog. He and Kate had gone to the mill earlier in the morning to reexamine the seal and see if she could find anything new about the spirit. He hadn’t wanted to bring up the subject at the very source of the trouble.

  There was a sudden silence. He had their attention immediately. Kate set down her teacup. “You didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  “You were exhausted and worried about Elle last night, Katie, and again this morning. I didn’t want to bring it up. Now that she’s home and safe, I thought it was a good time to discuss it.” En masse, the Drake sisters were difficult to contend with. He could feel every eye on him. There was power in the room, intangible, feminine, but a steady flow of it. An energy he couldn’t begin to explain, but he knew it moved from sister to sister.

  “What did it say?” Sarah asked. H
er voice was gentle, nonjudgmental. Practical, magical Sarah. She was the oldest and the most influential.

  “It made no sense. It was a moan and a growl mixed together. The syntax was old-fashioned, but from what I got, it was a warning to keep my loved ones away from one with the staff.”

  “The staff? He used the word staff?” Kate asked.

  Matt nodded. “I’ve thought a lot about it, and maybe it all ties up with Christianity and the staff of life or something. Anything to do with the Christian beliefs of Christmas is under attack?” He made it a question.

  Elle lifted the old journal Sarah handed to her. “I’ll do my best to try to find a reference to a staff in here,” she said. “I don’t think I thanked you for coming to my rescue the other night, Matt. One minute I was making my way home, and the next I felt something shove me over the side of cliff. I broke every fingernail on the way down, grabbing at dirt and rocks. I have no idea how Jackson climbed down to get me. I couldn’t even call out with a strong enough voice for help, and I was afraid to move. The ledge was literally crumbling under me.”

  “I know it was frightening, Elle, but we have you, you’re safe now,” Joley soothed.

  “Kate said something the other evening about how the entity didn’t go after Hannah. It’s strange because Hannah’s the one providing the wind to drive him out to sea and away from the town,” Matt said. “Do any of you have any idea why he’s chosen not to try to harm her?”

  Sarah frowned. “It really only went after Elle.”

  Kate shook her head. “It definitely tried for me, Sarah. And I think it tried to use Sylvia and her amorous ways to get to Abbey, then made a second attempt here in the house, pitting her against Jackson. Jackson’s a mercurial man, and Sylvia’s unpredictable. I think it wanted Abbey out of the way too. Of all of us, wouldn’t Hannah be its main obstacle?”

  “What do you all have in common?” Matt asked. He watched as Sarah moved through the living room lighting tall, thick candles at each entranceway. The candles each had three wicks and sat in wrought-iron holders. She murmured something he couldn’t hear as she lit each candle. He realized the windows had arrangements of colorful flowers and herbs tied in bundles on either side of the sills and above the window frames. The bundles of dried arrangements hadn’t been there before. The fragrance was a blend of outdoors and strong scents of rosemary, jasmine, and something else he couldn’t quite identify. The lights of the candles flickered on the walls, dancing and leaping with every movement of the sisters, as if tuned to them.