Chapter 23
The darkness was accompanied by sudden and total silence.
She hadn’t realized how loud the whine of electronics had been until it was gone.
The quiet inside the train was not matched outside, where the wind howled relentlessly, punctuated by wobbling whistles and sharp sibilance as it slipped its way through the cracks.
It buffeted against the side of the train in a persistent thudding, as if demanding to be let inside.
Stephan’s voice rumbled through the darkness. “Well, there went the power.”
“Were you expecting that?”
“We’re in the sticks, Sunshine. Someone sneezes hard enough, and the power goes out. With a storm like this, it was pretty much guaranteed. I found where they stashed all the storm supplies when you were out, though.”
“When do you think it’ll come back?”
The door creaked as he shifted position. “We’re pretty far off the main grid…They probably won’t send anyone out till this storm calms, and even then, we won’t be priority.”
“Meaning?”
“Not tonight, that’s for sure. Maybe sometime tomorrow, but more likely, days.”
“How am I supposed to get out of here without killing myself?”
“I’ll go get a flashlight.”
A spike of fear ran through her. “Wait! Please…don’t go. I…I don’t want to stay here alone. I don’t…like the dark.”
“Not sure where that leaves us,” he said with a chuckle. “I…could cast a spell. If that’s okay.”
She sighed but then said softly, “Okay.”
There was a smell like the first sun-drenched day of spring, when all the flowers first dare to peek through their petals. Then a single point of light pierced the darkness, expanding into an orb that gave off a warm, comforting glow in the doorway.
“Is there a way to get it closer?”
“It stays close to me, so I’ll have to get closer.”
“That’ll have to be okay. Just keep your eyes shut.”
“Gentleman’s honor.” A moment later, he slid inside, back to her and eyes, presumably, shut. The orb hovered just in front of his chest, casting a pale incandescence throughout the room.
She slid out of the bath and snatched a towel, wrapping it around her body as quickly as she could manage.
Not only for modesty’s sake, but because it was already getting cold.
Apparently, the only thing keeping the train at a livable temperature had been the chugging heaters.
Without them, the temperature was dropping fast.
“I’m decent,” she said once she had tugged the bottom of a fresh ugly sweater down over her hips. It featured a car carrying a Christmas tree bigger than it was with the words Go big or go home and was her least favorite yet.
Hopefully she could do laundry before she needed to resort to the final sweater in the bag, which had altered a red-and-white Fair Isle pattern to incorporate images from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and featured a crass quote from the movie.
She had to assume Stephan had brought that one along as a prank.
They made their way back to the main room where Stephan crouched in front of the kitchenette and came up with a camping lantern and two flashlights.
He turned the lantern on with a flare and positioned it as central to the room as he could. “I’ll stick the perishables in the snow. Layer up with as much as you can stand, because it’s about to get real cold in here.”
It appeared they were properly snowed in for the night.
They ate by the light of the camping lantern and Stephan’s still-glowing spell. They’d lit a fire in the potbellied stove to cook over, but its heat didn’t travel far, so they sat cross-legged on the ground before it with bowls balanced in their laps.
“How long will that last?” asked Hayleigh, nodding at the orb while rolling her fork in a pile of spaghetti noodles.
“Until I let it go.” With a wave, he moved the orb to his hand. As he flicked his wrist from side to side, the ball followed. She was hypnotized by its fluid glide and the streaks of light it left in its wake.
“Pretty cool, huh?” He tossed it her way, and she yelped as it traveled straight at her face but rebounded just before it could bop her in the nose.
He chuckled as she shot him a glare and stabbed the noodles with her fork. “You know, I would think people would treat an awe-inspiring thing like magical powers with solemnity. Not you, apparently.”
Stephan eased back onto his hands, stretching out his torso. “I don’t think solemn’s in my wheelhouse.”
“Obviously not. Your sister and mom are a lot more intense, though, so I wouldn’t call it a family trait.”
His smile cooled for a moment. “You didn’t exactly meet the two of them at their most relaxed, but no, you’re right.
And when things would get tense between them, or my mom and my grandma, or anyone, really, I’d always be there trying to get everyone to smile if I could.
So…” He popped the glowing ball with his elbow like you might a hacky sack.
“I got good at finding the not-so-solemn magic.”
“Hmm. So you started feeling like these perpetual good vibes of yours are a responsibility, huh?” Hayleigh nodded to herself, feeling as though she’d placed a piece in the puzzle of Stephan Midwinter.
He eyed her. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“Well, I would. That was my sister Kelsey in our family, which is why as soon as she could, she split town and started making people happy who actually paid her for it.”
She found herself desperately wishing she could call, or at least text, Kelsey.
She wasn’t sure exactly how much of her last few days she’d be able to share, but it was a moot point, because until her sister reached out, she remained cut off.
When this was all over, she vowed to memorize a few key phone numbers.
“If you’re suggesting I join the circus,” said Stephan, “you wouldn’t be the first.”
“Well, no, not the circus, but there are plenty of ways to turn charm into a career. Especially with the twenty-four-hour nature of entertainment these days.”
“Hmm.” He leaned in closer. “I bet it would kill you to know I haven’t seen a single penny from any of my videos on social media.”
“Some of them have hundreds of thousands of views!” she said, almost choking on her food.
“It’s the festival’s social media account, not mine. But I’m pretty sure they’re not monetizing either.” She let out a strangled noise. “I mean, other than the ticket sales it hopefully brings in.”
“Ah yes, theoretical ticket sales, as opposed to guaranteed revenue. You have to know that’s just money back to tech companies; it’s not like it gets donated to the local orphanage.”
He grinned. “Man, you are so easy to rile up with this stuff.”
“Am I riled up by passive income left on the table? Yes, yes, I am.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, if you had the money from those videos, you wouldn’t have to drive around in a death trap.”
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“I don’t.”
Stephan winced suddenly and reached to massage his neck. He had pushed himself earlier when he’d carried her in the woods and was paying for it—she was sure of it.
“Do you have the cream your mom made?” she asked.
“It’s out in the truck. I’ve been stuck in that place where I’m in pain but the idea of getting the solution seems worse.”
“Oh gee, I wonder if that would be a time to ask for help.” She gently thwapped him on the arm.
He narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t we just get you thawed?”
“Yes, but I doubt I’ll refreeze if I hurry. I’m taking your boots, though.”
His eyes danced with amusement. “So you admit yours are useless.”
“I admit nothing. But yours are…higher.”
Wrapping herself up against the cold, she slid her feet into his boatlike boots. The snow now fell so fast and thick that she could not see the forest.
This wasn’t just a snowstorm. This was a blizzard.
She allowed herself just a moment of wondering if the curse was responsible but shook off the thought. Now that she knew more about its nature, she was slower to pin every little misfortune on it.
There was no doubt it had been responsible every time she’d seen a little creature scuttling around, but what about everything else?
She was doubtful it could summon blizzards, and she had also begun to doubt that it had caused Jack Bree to fire her.
Where exactly did the curse’s reach end and her responsibility begin?
The thought haunted her as she reentered the train and found Stephan stretched out on the nest they’d made in front of the stove, eyes half-lidded.
Flames popped within the belly of the stove as she settled back down behind him.
His eyes slid open, a smile spreading across his face when he saw her there.
He swiped at the jar, but she shooed his hand away.
“I’ll do it. Where does it hurt?”
His eyes darkened as he looked at her and gestured to the outside of his left shoulder and upper arm, sweeping his hand up the side of his neck.
“I guess it would be easier if I took this off,” he said, pulling his sweater up and over his head and casually dropping it to the floor as he assumed a hunched, seated position.
“Oh yeah” was all she could say as she once again took in an eyeful of his bare chest. Even though he was hunched, she was forced to rise onto her knees for better access to the top of his shoulders.
Sweeping aside his long hair, she said, “Hold this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Their fingers brushed in the handoff, and the feel of it shot all the way down through her stomach.
The cream let out a sharp tang of camphor chased by the refreshing mint of menthol when she opened the cap and dipped her fingers inside.
“Are you sure this isn’t just Whole Foods Bengay?
” She smeared it over the hard ridgeline of his shoulder and then down his body to the slopes of his biceps.
His skin had soaked in the radiant heat of the stove and was hot to the touch; the effect of it contrasted against the cooling of the cream—fire and ice.
“Liliana Midwinter would never. She mixes traditional herbal remedies with her concoctions, but trust me, there’s spellwork in this too. It lasts way longer than anything you can buy in a store.”
“Hmm.” She slipped her hand up and over his shoulder and then down the front of his chest, massaging the cream into his pec muscles in slow circles.
He let out a low groan of relief tinged with unmistakable pleasure.
The way she’d seen him apply the poultice before had been hurried, but she took her time with him.
If he refused to spend energy on himself, she would have to do it for him.
“What happened anyway?” she asked.
“Blew my rotator cuff, also messed up the nerves between my neck and arm.”
“Does it bother you often?”
“Usually no, but I tweaked it a couple weeks ago, and holiday rush meant I couldn’t just lie low and recover.”
She tutted. “Carrying me through the woods probably wasn’t a great recovery plan either.”
“Maybe not,” he said, but then he eased back, putting more of his weight into her hands. “But I can’t say I mind this recovery plan.”
“I don’t either,” she murmured, and he eased farther back, almost settling into her lap. An ache blossomed below him, in the crook between her thighs.
When she’d finished with the cream, the fire had grown low. “Maybe we should turn in instead of starting another log,” murmured Stephan.
The heat of the stove never penetrated beyond its radius, and the chill ran deep when they stepped outside it.
Hayleigh looked at the bed, and then at Stephan. She supposed it was a no-brainer that they share a bed. They had already once before, and it was likely to get dangerously cold that night.
But when they’d shared the bed before, there had been no reason to question how much distance would end up between them.
But now the kiss was out there. The kiss they hadn’t yet talked about, that had also been a straddling of his lap and might have been more if she hadn’t spooked.
“I don’t mind sleeping next to the fire,” said Stephan, voice hitching just a little, betraying that he was just as unsure as she was how to act at that moment. “We made a pretty cozy nest over there.”
“No. We should share body heat. It’s only…practical.”
“Practical,” he said with a chuckle, “right. Yeah. Well, I’ll take the same side as last night.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” she managed, heading stiffly to her own side.
They slid into their opposite positions. And once again, Hayleigh could not sleep a wink.