Chapter 7 Herd Meeting
Herd Meeting
The two-hour drive back to Palm Springs had given me plenty of time to construct elaborate theories about my apparent supernatural awakening.
My plan was simple: close all the blinds, turn off my phone, and pretend the outside world didn’t exist for the next twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight. Or however long it took for reindeer men to stop appearing in my life.
I’d barely set my bag down when three firm knocks echoed through my living room.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I froze, keys still dangling from my fingertips.
The knocks came again, more insistent this time.
A normal person would ignore it. A smart person would call the police. I, however, apparently possessed neither quality because I marched to the door and yanked it open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
“What now? Is the Easter Bunny waiting to tell me I’m secretly related to—”
The words died in my throat as I stared up—because yes, up—at the man on my doorstep. He stood there as if he’d been casually waiting for hours, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable save for one arched eyebrow. He had cool ivory skin and short black hair.
But it was his eyes that made my stomach drop. Slate gray with the same unsettling intelligence I’d seen in the park.
The reindeer.
“You.” I gripped the door frame to steady myself.
He inclined his head slightly, a gesture both polite and somehow smug at the same time.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re absurdly tall? What are you, like six-foot-ten?” I was five-foot-nine, and he had more than a foot on me.
“Seven feet.” His voice was deep, rumbling like distant thunder. “May I come in?”
I glanced behind him at my quiet suburban street, wondering what my neighbors would think if they saw me inviting Bigfoot’s better-dressed cousin into my home.
“Why not?” I stepped back, waving him in with false bravado. “Make yourself at home, Comet.”
He stiffened, broad shoulders going rigid as he ducked to enter my doorway. “My name is Rudy.”
“Of course it is.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up as I closed the door. “Rudy. As in Rudolph? Where’s your glowing nose?”
His expression remained stoic, but I swore I caught a flicker of annoyance pass through those slate eyes.
He moved into my living room with surprising grace for someone whose head nearly brushed my ceiling, scanning my sparse decor with open curiosity.
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to reclaim some sense of control. “So what, you can... track me down whenever you want?”
His massive frame made my furniture look like dollhouse accessories as he carefully lowered himself onto my couch. The poor thing creaked in protest.
“I didn’t track you. I’ve been here before.” He gestured vaguely toward my kitchen.
I followed his gaze, ice forming in my veins as realization dawned. “That was you?”
He nodded once, his expression utterly unapologetic.
“You broke into my house to bake cookies?” Frost began creeping across my hardwood floors, spreading outward from where I stood. “What kind of twisted home invasion is that?”
Rudy’s eyes tracked the spreading frost with something like satisfaction. “It wasn’t breaking in, and I didn’t bake here, seeing as you have no baking supplies. The others thought nostalgic food might help trigger your memories.”
“The others.” My nails dug crescents into my palms. “Right. Your reindeer friends who think I’m some kind of... ice creature.”
“You’re more than that.” He studied me with unnerving intensity.
I stared at him, trying to maintain my righteous indignation, but something else tugged at me beneath the anger.
It was a peculiar pull, like gravity but warmer, drawing me toward his massive frame.
For one absurd moment, I imagined climbing onto his lap, burying my face against his chest, and letting him solve whatever cosmic joke my life had become.
I shook my head, backing up a step. “Look, I don’t know what ‘more’ I’m supposed to be, but I’m just a woman with bills to pay and a spray tan addiction, not whatever magical creature you think I am.”
Rudy’s gaze swept over me, lingering on my face. “I see the tan didn’t take.”
My hand flew to my cheek reflexively. “Hey! How do you even… you know what? Never mind.”
The doorbell rang, its cheerful chime completely at odds with the existential crisis unfolding in my living room. Rudy’s lips quirked in what might have been the world’s most microscopic smile. “That would be the others.”
“The others? What do you mean the—” I didn’t finish because the doorbell rang again, followed by an impatient series of knocks that sounded like someone was using my door for drum practice.
I stomped over to it and yanked it open, ready to unleash hell on the threat that awaited.
Except the threat was a wall of extra-large pizza boxes balanced in someone’s arms. Behind them stood a snack food convoy of two-liter bottles of soda, bags of chips, and cookie boxes—holy Cookie Monster, so many cookie boxes.
“Special delivery!” a voice called from behind the first pizza tower.
The boxes shifted, revealing Dane’s grinning face. Behind him stood the entire collection of men who had been appearing everywhere, crowding my entryway like this was an average potluck.
They pushed past me in a herd of masculine energy, filling my living room with their presence. Food was placed on every available surface before I could stop them.
“We figured you’d be hungry.” Kip grabbed my hand, sending tingles up it, and pressed a warm cookie into my palm. “Food is always the best foundation for life-altering revelations.”
“I’m partial to salty myself.” Blitz ripped open a bag of chips with his teeth and dropped into my reading chair.
Vix carried in a case of energy drinks. “The sugar content in these is appalling, but apparently humans love them.”
Cole silently handed me a pizza box, his blue eyes somehow making the gesture seem profound.
Pierce began arranging bottles on my coffee table. “Figured we’d need provisions for the herd meeting.”
“The what meeting?” I clutched the cookie, watching frost creep along its edges.
“Herd meeting,” Dash repeated, flopping onto my couch beside Rudy. “Nine reindeer, one North. That’s a herd.”
“We’ve got a lot to catch up on and wanted to make it comfortable for you.” The man from the grocery store opened a bottle of soda and took a swig.
I ran through their names: Dash and Dane, Pierce and Vix, Cole and Kip, Donner and Blitz. Rudy. Some part of me knew with certainty I’d paired them exactly how they were supposed to be paired.
I watched the grocery store man’s throat work as he swallowed. “And you’re Donner.”
He burped. Ugh. Men. “Excuse me, that hit harder than expected. I’m Don.”
I stood rooted to the spot while nine men made themselves at home, eating food, sitting on my furniture, and acting like this impromptu magical meeting was an everyday occurrence.
The cookie in my hand smelled devastatingly good, like childhood, safety, and something just out of reach. The scent wrapped around me, warm and familiar. My shoulders dropped, just a little.
“Eat it.” Rudy was watching me and waiting. I contemplated crumbling the treat in my hand in defiance, but his command and the look in his eyes told me to obey.
I examined it, my nose crinkling before I took a bite. The taste exploded on my tongue and made my eyes water with unexpected emotion. “Someone better explain why the North Pole’s mascots decided to stage an intervention in my living room with cookies.”
The men exchanged glances as if they’d witnessed a modern-day miracle. I tracked the silent communication passing between them. Could they speak to each other telepathically? Rudy could speak to me, so it wasn’t out of the question.
I took another bite of the cookie to steady myself. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Dane bounced on his heels, practically vibrating. “You said it!”
“Huh? I was being sarcastic.” The words felt hollow even as I spoke them, like my mouth was operating on autopilot while deeper parts of my brain stirred. “It’s not like I actually believe in any of this.” At least that’s what I was currently telling myself.
“You’re beginning to remember.” Rudy looked both powerful and patient, like a mountain that had all the time in the world to wait for me to climb. And man, did I have the urge to climb him. “Your magic is reawakening even with everything stacked against it.”
“Magic tied to what? Christmas spirit? Coal distribution?”
“Joy.” All eyes were fixed on me as Rudy spoke. “True joy. Without it, you’ll never be able to reach… Jingle.”
The word “Jingle” made my chest ache, like someone had pressed on an old bruise I’d forgotten was there.
“We can’t force you to remember.” Kip’s voice was gentle, his green eyes earnest beneath those wild red curls.
He moved to stand near me, and I had the strangest urge to let him pull me into a hug.
“The magic won’t allow it. Some things you have to discover for yourself.
We can only help you reconnect to what you’ve lost.”
I leaned against the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, steadying myself. “And what exactly have I lost?”
Vix snorted, crushing an empty energy drink can in one hand. “Your sense of humor is intact, at least.”
Rudy’s eyes seemed to glow as he spoke. “Your Christmas spirit… your joy.”
My legs felt too weak to support my weight. Pierce was already moving a dining room chair for me to sit in. I gave him a grateful smile and sank into it, cookie crumbs from my shirt falling onto my lap.
The room filled with the sounds of eating as I looked around at the nine reindeer men who had crashed into my life. My brain went through everything, and either they were really messing with me, or they were under some kind of magical gag order.
I was caught between laughter and tears. These men weren’t threatening me. They weren’t even trying to force me to do anything. They were just... waiting. Patient and determined, like this was their job.
“How do I know this isn’t some elaborate prank?” I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
Cole moved with silent grace to kneel beside my chair. He took my hand, turning it palm up. “It’s not. Do you feel that?”
Did he mean the weird tingle he sent up and down my arm? It radiated from where his fingertips pressed against my skin, like static electricity but warmer, more alive. The sensation skittered up to my shoulder and down into my chest, wrapping around some internal part of me.
I nodded. “What is it?”
“Connection.” Cole said only the one word, but it rang true in my mind.
I could kick them all out immediately and ignore this, but that felt wrong, like I’d be ripping away a part of myself. If this wasn’t a figment of my imagination, I was screwed anyway, might as well see where my delusion led me.
“What’s next then? What’s your grand plan for helping me find this magical joy?”
“We stay.” Blitz grabbed a box of pizza and flipped it open. “Help you recover pieces of yourself, one memory and feeling at a time until we can return to Jingle.”
Jingle. There it was again: Joint International Nordic Glacial Logistics and Ecology.
The artwork from the gallery flashed in my mind. My dad’s face when he’d come on video chat the other day. My parents’ odd behavior when I’d mentioned what was happening to me.
What I was about to say seemed absolutely absurd. “Is my dad Santa Claus?” The room tensed, nine pairs of eyes darting between each other. I reached for my phone, pulling up his contact. “I’ll call and ask.”
Cole’s hand closed over mine, warm and surprisingly gentle considering his size. “He won’t be able to confirm or deny. There are strict guidelines.”
Ice formed beneath my fingertips. “Is he sick? Is something happening to him?”
“Not sick.” Rudy’s voice dropped lower. “Not in the traditional sense.”
I pulled my hand away from Cole and stared at the melting ice in my palm, feeling something both terrifying and exhilarating unfolding inside me. “His magic is fading, isn’t it? That’s what the painting was about.”
The silence that followed was all the confirmation I needed.