Chapter 27
They had worked their way about a third of the distance to the highway when they were surprised by a bright red, boxy car blazing up to them with what looked to be a homemade snowplow of plywood and jury-rigged snowblowers attached.
A hula girl swung her hips back and forth on the dash beside what appeared to be an open tallboy of beer.
“Ahoy there!” bellowed a wizened man who leaned his way out the driver’s-side window. “Figured you might be needing a haul-out! I’m LeFleck, your host!”
“You are our host?” said Stephan, staring in open amusement.
The wiry man leaped free of the car. His face was nearly covered by the flaps of a too-large furry hat, graying black hair escaping in wisps.
“My pops worked for the rail. Got this thing as hush money if he didn’t tell anyone how his bosses looted everything after they pulled out when the mine shut. ”
“Incredible,” murmured Stephan.
“He didn’t ask for actual hush money instead?” asked Hayleigh.
LeFleck eased against the side of the train, giving it a pat. “Nah, Pops loved the trains more than anything.”
“And are you who we have to thank for the decor?” said Stephan.
“Oh yeah. I go all out for Christmas.” He grinned, sticking his hands on his hips. “You like?”
“We could not stop talking about it,” said Stephan. Hayleigh reached out and gave him a small pinch to say stop teasing the man, and his eyes sparkled as he glanced back her way.
“How’s the highway look?” asked Stephan.
“Passable—in that rig,” he said, nodding to Stephan’s truck. “Y’all lost power?”
“We did,” said Hayleigh.
“Shoot, real sorry about that, but it’s out all over. Even downtown and the ski area are closed up. You guys keep warm?”
“Oh yeah,” said Stephan, “hot, even.”
She elbowed him again, and he slipped his hand down to tickle her lower back. Biting her lip to keep from giggling, she snatched at his hand, trying to pull it away, but he easily overpowered her, doubling his effort until she couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a rowdy laugh.
“You’re going to pay for that,” she hissed.
“I should hope so.”
LeFleck looked between them with a slightly puzzled smile and said, “Well, got to go clear out some more folk. Be sure to leave us a five-star review.” Then he hauled his way back over to his redneck snowplow, calling “Happy Christmas!”
The car spiraled back down the driveway, snow spraying in all directions as it flashed them a rear end capped with a wreath alongside stickers like HONK IF YOU TONK and I brAKE FOR GOVERNMENT DRONES.
When they retrieved Arnauld from Twisp, he revealed the present he’d gone all the way back to get.
“I think they used AI,” he said, eyes full of regret at the miserably rendered family portrait.
They hadn’t captured any of the humans beyond basic details of age and race, and one dog inexplicably resembled a llama.
“I tried to ask them to fix it, and they blocked my email. I guess I should’ve known better than to order online. ”
“It’s the thought that counts?” Hayleigh offered.
“Should I pitch it?” Arnauld cracked the truck’s passenger window with a blast of frozen air. “I’m thinking I should pitch it.”
The landscape was covered in a deep blanket of white in Twisp as well. The storm had dumped snow all over the Pacific Northwest. Even Bellevue had apparently gotten a couple of feet.
“No,” said Stephan, shaking his head, “but only because that would be littering. Toss it in the dumpster next stop we make. Why didn’t you ask Zaide for a painting?”
“I should’ve, but she’s expensive, and this wasn’t. Guess you get what you pay for.”
“And now you’ll be paying double to rush,” said Stephan.
Arnauld groaned. “She’s going to take me to the cleaners, and I will be grateful for it.”
The sky was dark when they finally pulled down Elk Ridge’s main street, getting stuck in stop-and-go foot traffic congestion. A parade was just wrapping up—the Solstice parade, Hayleigh supposed, given the date.
Voluminous lanterns floated in all directions, and attendees filtered down the sidewalks, some returning to the festival grounds, others off to peruse the still-open shops or grab dinner downtown.
A pang of regret chased a memory of sitting in her hotel room during last year’s festivities, eating room service and watching an aggressively mediocre holiday movie about a dog groomer who traveled to a fictional European country to attend to the grumpy royal corgi (who would, of course, let no other groomer touch him), only to win the heart of the similarly grumpy prince.
Instead of witnessing an incredibly cringy scene in which the romantic lead had to convince the dog to poop out the family’s royal signet, she could have been out here better understanding what the Midwinters and their coven had been fighting for.
But the attitude of stiff competition she’d wrapped herself up in had left her unable to acknowledge anything good about what “the other side” was offering.
Doing so would have left cracks in the armor of her certainty.
It had been a losing strategy and, even worse, a recipe for a dull life.
They rolled to a stop in front of Elk Ridge Presbyterian, where candles blazed in every window.
“Thanks, man,” said Arnauld, hopping out.
“What’s going on here tonight?” Hayleigh asked, surprised at seeing so much activity behind the lit windows.
“Oh, that’s probably the church’s float coming back. We always do one for the parade.” Just down the street was a truck hitched to a trailer that carried a colorfully decorated nativity scene. “I was supposed to be one of the wise men, if the weather’d cooperated.”
“Sorry about that, man,” said Stephan.
“Don’t even worry. Pretty sure Mama only casts me so Mom can make the same tired ‘I thought the story said wise man, not wise ass’ joke.” Then he thumbed back toward the church. “We’re having a little ‘longest night’ social. If y’all get done with your party and want to swing by.”
“I’ll be busy pretty late, but…” Stephan glanced at Hayleigh. “You could always come here while we’re off doing the Solstice ritual.”
“Mmm, maybe.” Hayleigh shifted in her seat uncomfortably at the mention of what was to come.
He had explained that at the end of the Solstice gathering, everyone in the coven would go to the woods to perform some kind of ritual, leaving the “nonmagical” behind, including Hayleigh. She didn’t want to go, and yet, the thought of being left behind also left her unsettled.
The engine of Stephan’s truck cut out in front of the Midwinter house, and they lingered inside the cab for a moment. Lanterns were propped in all the windows, beacons in the night. Now that she was aware of magic, she could smell it all over the house, dozens of spells wafting out to greet her.
She hesitated when it came time to open the door.
Normally, when a man brought you to his family’s home for the first time, he was supposed to lean over and say, “They’re gonna love you!
” But the best Stephan could offer was “They don’t hate you, probably.
” Everyone in that building had reason to.
Maybe they hadn’t cursed her, but Rowan had been her primary suspect for good reasons.
“Hey.” Her eyes flicked up at Stephan’s gentle urging. “Remember: I’m right here, and I’m not letting anyone make you feel unwelcome.”
“I don’t think you can promise that.”
“Just watch me.”
The walkway was lined with what looked like translucent glowing cups. “Ice luminaries,” said Stephan, catching her looking.
Light cast by votives diffused through and around decorations that had been frozen in layers to form the luminaries. Deep crimson berries, circles of oranges, pale green leaves, and more were all embedded in the ice, lit up vividly by the flames: brilliant bursts of color in the clear backdrop.
“Won’t the candles melt them?” asked Hayleigh, thinking of all the work that must have gone into it.
He shrugged. “Sure, but they’ll last the night, which is as long as we need them, and then they’ll go back to the earth.”
Just before they reached the door, his hands brushed her waist, bringing her to a stop before pointing up to where mistletoe dangled overhead, its leaves crystallized with icy spirals.
Then he drew her close, wrapping her lips with his.
His long hair tickled her cheeks as his fingers dug into her sides—I’ve got you, the kiss said, and it did make her feel a little bit better.
When he swung open the door, he kept one arm firmly about her waist.
A dreamy Loreena McKennitt song was a mellow backdrop to a much more energetic foreground of chatter and laughter.
Exposed-beam ceilings had been wound with garlands of evergreens and popcorn and red ribbon, while dried oranges dangled from twine.
It smelled of the dozen different delights all sitting on the table, waiting to be devoured.
A fire crackled in the hearth, but though most of the wood burned as expected, there was one log in the center that remained unburned no matter how many flames licked at its side.
“The Yule log,” said Stephan. “Mom won’t let it actually catch fire until the season’s over.”
Every noise except for the brooding harp of “In the Bleak Midwinter” ceased as the party stopped to stare. After a moment of hesitation, Birdie stepped forward from where she had been chatting with Zaide and an older man with a long gray ponytail, arms wide and welcoming.
But then Rowan rushed out to meet them first. Her curly white hair hung around her like a storm cloud, matching the flashing anger in her eyes.
“We agreed you wouldn’t bring her here tonight,” said Rowan.
“You said that, not me,” said Stephan. His arm tightened around Hayleigh, and his sister seemed to notice their closeness then, brow furrowing tighter.