Incident 8 Tis the Season to be Outed #5
And his coming out to his mother had gone well. And she liked his boyfriend.
Really, the evening couldn’t have gone better. Maybe this was a sign that he’d be able to get all his shit in order in time for school to start after all.
Ross crossed his fingers quickly before he could jinx himself.
The party was in full swing at Glenn’s house.
With the mix of cultures, beliefs, and religions, it was like an explosion of winter holidays.
Ross had difficulty keeping the traditions straight, and had gotten muddled in the pre-planning stage with little hope of straightening it out.
He tried to stick to the basics and keep the alcohol coming, as that seemed to be the key point.
Yule celebration started on December twentieth, and it did so with a bang.
The party tonight was a masquerade ball, everyone in masks and costumes, with a Yule log blazing merrily in the central fireplace, and alcohol flowing freely.
Hanukkah had already finished, but they still included a few traditional foods for their Jewish members, including latkes, sufganiyot, and basically any other food that could be fried in oil.
Ross had been running around last minute like a madman, making sure all the food hit the banquet tables set out in both the dining room and the formal sitting room.
He put the last tray of food onto the table, then rocked back on his heels, relieved.
Finally done. Now he could just party and keep the Finns and Swedes from jumping into the pool.
An arm landed around his shoulder and Keane vibrated with all the excitement of a five-year-old. “You got me prawns!”
Ross bent quite the look at him. “You went on for days—days, mind you—about how the Aussies don’t do American Christmas foods, that you wanted summer fruit and pavlova, and prawns. I expect you to eat every bit of this.”
“Happily!” Keane went immediately for a plate, beaming all the while.
“Ross-san.”
Ross turned and gave a nod to their resident kitsune, Hisoka. “Hisoka-san.”
The kitsune looked fiery in his red kimono, the tuft of his ears swiveling here and there as he picked up various sounds, all nine tails poufy and quivering with excitement. “Ross-san, you got fried chicken for us too?”
“Of course. And cake. Although someone still needs to explain to me why Japanese people celebrate Christmas with fried chicken and cake.” Ross had been impressed upon by multiple people that fried chicken was a MUST but they had never explained the reason behind it.
“I promise I will.” Hisoka went straight for a plate as well.
He promised he will, but later, huh? Ross shook his head in resignation and backed out of the room before he could get locked into it.
With the food now in place, there was something of a rush by the hungry party-goers to get a plate.
Ross had been snacking even as he worked, so he wasn’t remotely hungry at this point.
As he passed through the foyer, he saw multiple coblynaus crammed near the front door, and a peek through the window showed a…was that a horse skull wrapped in a sheet?
The horse outside was singing something, and it sounded demanding. Ross was going off tone, as he couldn’t decipher a single word of it.
The coblynaus inside the house consulted for a second before one of them sang something back.
Just what…? Ross hadn’t organized a horse skull head to sing at the doorstep. As crazy as he’d been for the past two weeks, he was pretty sure on that. Looking about, he spied Dunham and stopped him. “What is that?”
Dunham stopped chewing on the fried chicken drum in his mouth to answer. “Oh, that’s Mari Lwyd.”
“Right. Pretend I still don’t understand.”
“Not surprised yer confused. Himself only comes at this time of the year.” Dunham waved to the singing coblynaus.
“He be a Welsh creature, ye see. He comes to those who respect the old ways. Tradition states that when he comes, he’ll sing a challenge at yer door.
Those that abide with have to sing back—in rhyme—why he canna enter.
It goes back and forth ’til one of ’em gives up.
If our coblynaus lose, Mari Lwyd will have the right to come in, eat our food, and drink all our beer. ”
Ross eyed the tableau in front of the door, and they weren’t looking very confident. “How many years have you seen this play out?”
“Oh, I’ve lost count. As soon as the coblynaus joined us, belike.”
“And how many times have you seen them win?”
Dunham snorted a laugh. “I canna say they’ve ever won.”
“Right. So you’re saying, I should order more beer.”
“It wouldna be amiss, me thinks.”
Ross pulled out his phone immediately and put in an online order with the nearest grocery store for a delivery of more beer. And aspirin, as the hangovers tomorrow were sure to be epic. But really? No one had thought to warn him of the singing horse head that liked to scarf beer?
With a groan of defeat, the coblynaus slumped, and one of them opened the door.
The Mari Lwyd pranced right in like it owned the place, and one of them showed it directly into the kitchen.
Which was fine, there were plenty of leftovers there the Mari Lwyd was welcome to.
As long as it didn’t decimate Ross’s banquet tables, it was welcome in the house.
Ross shook his head and looked about, trying to spot his boyfriend.
With a over a hundred people in the house, not including a victorious Mari Lwyd, it proved something of a challenge.
Glenn’s house was large enough to accommodate them all, but only just. With the music playing—not that Ross recognized the music—and the people talking, and all the distractions around him, he didn’t have a prayer of even hearing his boyfriend’s voice.
What were the odds Glenn had his phone on him. That was the question.
“Ross?”
He froze, stiffer than an abandoned popsicle left in the freezer for a decade.
That sounded terribly like his mother. Please let that not be his mother.
Ross hadn’t actually wished for anything this Christmas yet, he still had the power of a wish left, so Santa, listen.
Let that not be his mother. That was all he asked for. Deal?
Ross turned by inches, eyes growing wider and wider with horror as he spied his mother standing uncertainly just inside the door. In her hands was a plate of cookies, her favorite white winter coat on, a tentative smile on her face that looked stiff and on the verge of cracking.
Imani’s eyes kept darting here and there, taking in the coblynaus as they raced like children through the foyer, so obviously not human. The kitsune who was happily munching on fried chicken that went up the stairs, tails swishing in a merry rhythm. The masquerade masks fooled absolutely no one.
They were the only two humans within sight.
“Ross?” she repeated, voice going high and thin. “What is this?”
Ross stared back at her, torn between panic and resignation.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a handbasket?
Things had certainly gone to hell fast enough.
His mother’s knees looked on the verge of going out from underneath her.
He went straight to her, wrapping a supportive arm around her waist, and started hauling her towards Glenn’s study.
It was the only quiet place on offer. The clan knew better than to go in there.
“Come on, Mama. I’ll explain, but we need to get to a quiet place first.”
“Ross?”
He turned his head to see Bobo standing just inside the door, shifting from foot to foot. He looked between them, worrying at his bottom lip. “Was I not supposed to show her here?”
Well. That explained how his mother had arrived precisely at the wrong place at the wrong time. “It’s fine, Bobo.” The hell it was. “Take the plate of cookies to my house, will you?”
Bobo’s worry melted into relief. “Sure.”
Imani released the platter of cookies readily enough, her eyes still darting around in confusion. “Child, what is this?”
How did he answer that? How did he even begin to frame this in a way that she could easily wrap her head around it?
He had no idea if it was even possible, but the cat was thoroughly out of the bag now.
All he could do was try and hope he didn’t make a muddle of it.
Ross answered even as he hauled her through the front rooms, navigating his way around the party-goers.
“You remember when you used to take me down to Louisiana for summer holidays, and Grandmama would tell me stories of voodoo and creatures that lived in the swamp?”
“Those were just tall…tales…” Her voice trailed off as she spied the werewolves stretched out in front of the fire, drying out after their epic snow fight outside. With their dogs.
“None of it’s tall tales, Mama.” Ross reached the office door with relief, opening it quickly and escorting them both inside before someone could try and catch him with a request. He got the door shut in record time before escorting her to the couch.
Imani sank onto it like her strings had been cut. She stared at Ross as if she’d never seen him before. But behind her shock, under her disbelief, her mind whirled into high gear. “What is this place?”
Ross sat opposite her on the coffee table, looking her in the eyes and judging how to say this. Facts would likely be best. “Clan ó Riagáin, a home to one hundred and twenty-six supernatural beings from all different mythologies, cultures, and countries.”
“Supernatural,” she whispered breathlessly. “Like those too-big dogs. Those weren’t dogs.”
“No, they’re werewolves.”
“And the little ones, that looked like strange children?”
“Coblynaus. They’re mining gnomes from Wales.”
“And that beautiful one, with all the fox-looking tales?”