Lorelei came to a stop, the greys and blues darkening the deeper into the woods she peered. The sound stopped with her. It could be anything, a chipmunk probably, or even a talking raccoon. She’d seen stranger things, and wouldn’t it be nice to just see something strange at that moment and not a warlock—sent by the local government or otherwise—out to get her.
She started off again, and of course she heard it again, that sound that wasn’t the ticking of the bicycle chain or her own heavy breathing. She pushed on, faster, challenging the wet earth and hidden stones to knock her off and into the trees headlong. She should have worn a damn helmet.
Then she came around a familiar bend in the trail close to the manor where the pathway widened. Slowing, she took a final deep and stinging breath of cold air and headed for the break in the trees only fifty or so yards ahead. A shadowy form crossed the path, and Lorelei screamed.
Low to the ground, small, and on all fours, a ruddy fox trotted out onto the trail and twitched at her yelp. Its eyes caught the last of the light, frozen, then it hesitantly lifted a paw and darted away with a limp into the brush. Lorelei touched a hand to her chest and blew out a breath. Only a forest creature, and it hadn’t even tried to talk to her.
Then she felt a presence at her side, one that didn’t announce it was coming but was just suddenly there. Even in the dark forest, it was unmistakably white, the definition of the presence of light. She could have reached out and touched its flank it was so close, and she could feel the warmth off of it even in the chill of the evening. It snorted, the air about its muzzle swirling. When she glanced up to its head, she saw what she expected—one horn, glittering and gold.
The unicorn headed for the trees, but Lorelei called to it, “Wait.”
It stopped, a blue eye falling on her.
“Um, hey.” She swallowed, not knowing it would listen and knowing even less what to say, but she did feel a rush of comfort at its presence just like the time before. “Very cool of you to come back,” she said. “Little less cool that no one else is here to see you though.”
It continued to stare.
She brought a finger to her lips. “Would it be weird if I asked to take a picture with you?”
The unicorn snorted again, this time a bit more aggressively.
“No, yeah, you’re right, that would be weird.”
The massive, horned horse shook its mane and started off again, a silvery glow trailing behind it.
“Okay, thank you!” she called as the branches parted for the glow that surrounded it, and then the beast was swallowed up by the forest, and she was again alone.
Though the way ahead was dark and empty, she leisurely pedaled on to the manor, a little more secure. Unicorns just did that to a person, instilling them with a sense of bravery, or at least that had been Lorelei’s experience, and it didn’t seem like too many other people had met one to corroborate.
Back at the manor, Lorelei hung her coat on the rack in the foyer. No one was about, not even at the desk, and the doors to the sitting room were shut, uncharacteristic for dinnertime. She tried to open one, but Ziah’s voice piped up from inside, telling her to wait.
Ziah popped her head out and asked her to watch the desk. There was movement on the other side of the frosted glass, and she’d just seen Ren looking uncharacteristically flustered standing by the fire, but the door was snapped shut in her face.
She raised her knuckles to knock again and ask what the hell was going on, but a voice came from behind her. “Hello!”
Lorelei spun to see a short, plump woman was now standing just there in the entry. “Hi,” she managed, pushing loose strands of hair behind her ears to compose herself from the long bike ride. “How can I help you?”
The young woman’s face was almost entirely smile with thin lips and massive teeth. Her eyes were big and blue and rimmed in thick liner with bright pink cheeks and neatly arched brows. She was well put together, if a little overdone, her hair piled on top of her head giving her squat stature a few more inches, coif tied off with a pink bow nestled into coal black curls. “I’m here to see Ziah.”
Lorelei blinked. “Oh, are you her…” She didn’t like to assume everyone who came to the manor for Ziah was a date even though they were about ninety percent of the time.
“A client,” she said, rummaging through her canvas satchel, tie-dyed in all sorts of pinks and reds. “I called late last week, and, um, well, I don’t have an appointment exactly, but,”—she pulled a business card out of her bag and held it up—“she said to call back and check if she had any cancellations. Am I in the right place?”
Lorelei took the card, burgundy so dark it was almost black and soft to the touch. The woman had scrawled in loopy handwriting the manor’s name and some strange numbers that looked to be coordinates on the blank side. Lorelei flipped it over to read the printed script, Ziah Ja’milah, Succubus, and listed her phone number, then in smaller letters Knows how to get the blood pumping.
Lorelei snickered. “Wow.”
“I thought I’d drop by, just in case. I know it’s really pushing it, but I…” The woman looked sheepish as she gripped the strap of her bag. “Let’s just say I really need some help.”
Lorelei awkwardly stepped around the woman, gesturing to the door behind her as she went for the counter. “Well, she’s busy right now, and I know her schedule was totally full as of this afternoon. I can take a message.”
The woman followed her to the desk, slapping her hands on it. “They say Ziah’s the best in the biz. I can wait.” She snorted, not unlike the unicorn, and eyed Lorelei with a sharpness she wasn’t expecting. “Check me in, I’ll hang around til the end of the season if I have to, I need to be the first to get any open spot she has.”
Lorelei reached for the guest book, never blinking away from the intensity in the little woman’s eyes. “Uh, sure.”
Ziah was beautiful and charming and her company was extremely pleasant even when just occupying the same room, so Lorelei understood the appeal of wanting to spend time with her, but she had yet to fully deduce what side-hustle the succubus was running. Asking directly was at best embarrassing and at worst offensive. From what Lorelei unfortunately knew a bit too intimately from meeting Ziah’s brother, Malachai, having relations with a succubus or incubus usually left the other party drained in just about every way possible, but Ziah had never referred to her dates as clients. What all of this was, she had no idea, and that may have been for the best.
The woman finished scribbling in her name, Philomena, her tongue poking out as she pressed down hard on the page.
“Listen, I can’t make you any promises.” Lorelei retrieved her key from the wall.
“You don’t have to,” Philomena huffed, knowing the Rules much better than Lorelei did. “This will work out one way or another. I know it.” Dutifully, she followed Lorelei up the stairs to room 168, chatting to her the whole time about her journey there, briefly mentioning “last season” and how awful it had been. When they reached the room and Lorelei opened the door, she was unsurprised by the frilly bedsheets and red lighting, but thrown by the counter-height tables lining the far wall and shelving filled with empty jars, canisters, and a set of scales. “Just let her know I’m here, and I want to be at the top of her waitlist,” Philomena told her. “I can pay double.”
“Oh, geez, okay.” Lorelei covered her face as she left. “You got it.”
She tried to rub the redness out of her cheeks, padding softly down the hall to not disturb any of the guests. As she passed room 210 and a half, the door opened.
“Hi, Mr. Carr.” She gave him a wave and a friendly grin. His eyes narrowed, and she slowed. “Something the matter?”
“No,” he said, and quickly shut the door. Lorelei came to a full stop, squinting at where he had just stood. Mayor Blackburn’s voice filled her mind then: Who says I haven’t already sent them?
A tiny, bright light flitted into her vision. “You stink.”
“Hello to you too, Habian.” Lorelei rolled her eyes, navigating easily around the four-inch-tall faery and headed back for the stairs. She was used to the insults and jabs from most of the fae, especially those who knew her secret. The stink he spoke of was human, something she’d learned the eldest faeries could sniff out. Originally this made her quite nervous, the number of faeries buzzing around the manor was anyone’s guess, but Bur, the head of housekeeping and the rest of the fae, had told her humans had a special place in their hearts, and ratting her out wasn’t a priority. It would also ruin quite a lot of fun for them, and that would never do.
Habian buzzed along beside her, arms crossed, pointed wings holding him aloft as the rest of his body fell lax. “Really though. If it gets any worse, you’re going to need a refresh.”
Lorelei stopped at the head of the stairs—Bur never told her how long the glamour to mask her humanity was supposed to last, and she touched the tip of her nose. “Do you think you could tell Bur I need to see her?”
“Nope.” Habian got very close to Lorelei’s face, his features hard to see even this close up, but he was frowning. He threw back his head so that his stringy, black hair moved away from his eyes, but it fell back over them immediately. “She’s on vacation or something. Left me in charge.”
“Liar,” a breathy, high voice giggled as Tuatha drifted down next to him and settled on Lorelei’s shoulder, her dragonfly-esque wings coming to a stop. “Bur left Habian and me in charge.” Tuatha was easily the kindest of the faeries with intricate braids that ran down her back in a long ponytail, but she was also pretty dumb.
“When’s she coming back?”
“Hmm? Oh, well, she didn’t say. She was sort of in a rush, but she did mention something about making sure we keep all the mirrors polished while she’s away.”
Lorelei drummed her fingers on the stairway’s banister. “Well, do either of you think you can, um…” She tapped her cheek where the freckles were scattered.
Tuatha walked over her shoulder and put a tiny hand on the side of her face. “Seems to me like it’s still going pretty strong.”
Habian snorted. “Huh. Maybe she just needs a regular bath.”
“Rude.” Lorelei turned away as Tuatha took off from her shoulder. The two snickered and zipped up to a vent placed high on the wall. Their glows disappeared inside, and Lorelei grumbled about fae as she made her way back down to the foyer.
“Lore!” Ziah was all smiles, standing at the foot of the stairs. She was gripping her planner against her chest and had a twinkle to her eye that screamed I’m about to organize this whole place, and no one’s going to stop me. “I have a surprise for you.”
Lorelei squinted back at her. She couldn’t really take another one.
Then Ziah’s face went a bit worried. “Wait, I should have checked. Tell me something, have you ever celebrated Christmas before?”
“Yeah. Like twenty-something of them.”
Ziah’s amber eyes lit up even brighter. “And you’re not going back to see your family over winter?”
Lorelei shuddered. “That’s a big no.” She had no desire to face any of the people from her hometown so soon after running out on her own wedding, and her mother was headed to the Caribbean with her new friend, someone named Alex, for the holidays anyway.
“Wonderful!” She pulled her down from the stairs and threw an arm over her shoulders, guiding her into the sitting room. The place looked like a made-for-TV movie had thrown up in it. Sparkling gold stars were plastered on the walls, the sconces had stiff, red bows tied to them, a massive wreath was hanging above the fireplace, and a Douglas fir stood so tall in the corner that its tip was bent over against the ceiling. Ren stood beside the tree, and if he could look somber, he certainly did then. A giddy Hana was handing off ornaments to him and directing which of the highest branches they needed to be hung from.
“A little to the left,” she said. “Next to that blue one. No, the other blue one, with the glitter.”
“This is very undignified,” he murmured as she pushed a string of lights into his hands next. He may have meant for himself or the tree, but it was likely both.
“Oh, this is what you were doing?” Lorelei chuckled, looking into the giant box set on the middle of the coffee table. It was still half-filled with holiday paraphernalia, and the bottom of it looked to go on well below where it should have ended. “It’s maybe a little early, though, isn’t it?”
Ziah shrugged and skipped across the room. She was carrying a fuzzy throw blanket covered in holly berries over to Mr. Ecknees, their ever-sleeping guest rocking beside the fire, and placed it on his lap. He didn’t show any signs of waking, not that he ever did. “Every winter we sort of spiff up the place, and everyone’s got a different holiday thing. I like to rotate the theme, but I’ve been wanting to do Christmas for ages.”
There was a jostle from the box then, and the alalynx popped out of the decorations, tinsel draped over her head and wings, and a green and white sprig in her mouth.
“What’s this?” Hana took the plant from Aly who dove back in and disappeared amongst the baubles. “Tag says number 208.”
Ziah flipped through a sheet she had tucked into her planner and read aloud to them, “Number 208. An artificial sprig of Viscum album, a toxic, parasitic plant that bears evergreen leaves and waxy, white berries. Associated with fertility and vitality in ancient human cultures,”—at that she waggled her brows—“this decor is meant to be hung in a doorway or by a windowsill and is considered bad luck to pass beneath without kissing. Common name, mistletoe. Oh, fun!”
Hana squealed, and Lorelei pinched the bridge of her nose—that couldn’t have fallen into better hands. She sauntered up to the mantle where they’d arranged a manger scene, which was odd enough for charmed folk seeing as they had a different idea of what constituted divinity which Lorelei had yet to figure out, but most of the figurines in the manger weren’t shepherds or kings bearing gifts. Instead, there were three snowmen, a set of reindeer with drums strapped to their backs, a skeleton in a neon green elf costume, a grown man with a Jesus-esque beard wearing a festive if ugly sweater, and Santa Clause himself seated in the center on a throne-like chair. “Hey, Ziah, what is…uh, where’d this all come from?”
“YuleCo. They do these boxes for charmed folk to get the total Christmas package but aren’t sure how things are meant to go.”
There was a grunt from the corner where Ren was struggling with getting the string of lights to work, plugging them in to no avail and tightening each bulb in kind. “Wait, Ziah, isn’t your mom human? Haven’t you, at least, celebrated Christmas?”
“She doesn’t do Christmas, and I usually spent winter in the nether with my father’s family anyway. The only one of us really familiar with it is Grier, and he hates it. But now we’ve finally got our big tree, and we’re going to hang mittens on the mantle and roast nuts in them, and we’ll invite over some geese, and, oh, do you know how to make a figgy pudding? Because Ando refuses, and—”
Lorelei held up a finger. “You might have gotten a couple things confused in there, but we’ll figure them out.”
“There’s one more thing.” Ziah picked up a small, drawstring bag and shook it. “I want to play Covert Kringle.” Lorelei’s eyes must have said she had no idea what the woman meant, because Ziah’s face fell. “I put everybody’s name in this bag, and we’re supposed to pick one, and—”
“Secret Santa.” Lorelei giggled. “Yes, okay, and you give that person a gift.”
Ziah opened the bag and thrust it toward her. “You’re the first one.”
Lorelei fished around inside, pulling out a slip of paper. In Ziah’s exquisite handwriting, it read Grier.
“But you can’t tell anyone who you have!” She snatched the bag back and frowned, serious.
Lorelei held the strip against her heart and nodded solemnly.
There was a clatter from the corner as Ren dropped the string of lights, his nostrils flaring for a
second before he cleared his throat. “It is getting late. I believe you have things under control now, and I need to begin tracking my crepuscular query for the evening.”
Ziah made him pick from the bag before she let him leave, which he did without even looking at the scrap of paper. She watched him go with a grin then turned back to Lorelei. “We’ll get him enjoying things soon enough; you can’t have fun if no one knows where to start.”
“What is this?” Bridgette Blackburn was standing in the entry to the sitting room, her pink-painted lip upturned like the overwhelming smell of cinnamon in the air was offensive, and to be fair it sort of was. She had her hair pulled back, strange as it was usually in soft, blonde curls all around her face, and she looked a bit more tired than usual, but her eyes still had that hostile glimmer to them that she shared with her father, the mayor.
“Kissletoe,” squeaked Hana, shaking the plastic decoration over her head. The girl was perched on the edge of a side table and leaning out to fasten it over the doorway.
Bridgette’s brown eyes rolled upward as she stepped back. “Ew.” Then she gestured to the room at large with fingers spread wide. “I mean, like, everything.”
Lorelei tried to keep the grimace off her face, her Blackburn quota for the day already full. “We’re celebrating Christmas this year.”
Frowning, Bridgette shrugged. “Weird. Uh, you?” She pointed at Hana. “Can we get something to eat downstairs?”
Hana lilted out a yes, unendingly cheerful and accommodating, but Lorelei frowned. Conrad ought to come up and get dinner himself, not send his girlfriend up to do it, and especially not ask Hana to bring it down to them. She turned back to Ziah, but didn’t wipe the look off her face fast enough.
Ziah frowned back, concerned, then Lorelei smiled at her. “I’m fine,” she said as quickly as she could and stuck her hand in the box of decorations. “Are there any nutcrackers in this thing?”
The Wayward Deed (Vacancy Book 2) Page 5