Chapter 3
Blaze
Juniper’s dark brown eyes stay on me as I walk backward all the way to the door. I can’t help it. She’s too entrancing not to stare at. Her dark green waves fall across her face when she pretends to get back to work.
The soft, nervous smile on her lips assuages a stirring within me that hasn’t felt relief in centuries.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since yesterday morning—when I followed her to the jetty for the first time and watched her scream into the void at sunrise.
She’d unleashed a blood-curdling shout, one that sounded like it burned her throat and shattered the souls of those she meant to curse.
The crashing waves had drowned it out, and I knew it was genuine.
She’d screamed not for help, but for relief.
As if it was the only thing standing between her and a worse fate.
It was the same this morning.
I’d stood beside her both days as she collected herself, invisible in her shadow, and yet completely enamored by the glisten in her eyes.
I wonder why she’s angry.
After so many years coming to this island around Christmas, I don’t know how I’ve missed her. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out if I’ve just been going through the motions the last few decades, fumbling the fun my brother and I once had toying with the locals.
Because how have I missed her?
I memorize the look on her face before finally turn my back on her. It won’t be two days before I see her again. I might have a job to finish this afternoon, but I’ll be back to walk her home—even if it’s undetectable in her wake, melting any icy dew on the sidewalk to make sure she doesn’t slip.
Even if it would be smarter to leave her alone.
I carry the sculptures to the car I’m using, set them one-by-one in the trunk, and pause to stare. I’ve seen these before. A long, long time ago. I remember the sculptor and the precision he went into making them after North purposefully left one of his drawings behind at an early Rumpus Festival.
They really do need painting.
I’ll have to strip them down to the wood to get the old paint off—something I could easily do with the little magic I’ve rediscovered, but things like this are passion projects. Revealing the naked beauty in the wood, painting every detail, and sealing it for the next generation to appreciate.
North would say I’m being nostalgic. Still, he’s yet to give up his pencils and paper for his own illustrations.
“I know you.”
The voice comes from behind me. I close the car trunk and peer over my shoulder, finding an older, gray-haired woman walking toward me from her own car. I recognize her as one of the long-term residents almost immediately.
“Do you?” I ask.
Her own mouth draws upward. “How’s your brother? Up to his tricks this year?”
I chuckle, though my heart is already hurting. “I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Wilson.”
There aren’t many residents on the island who know us. Sadly, humans only begin to realize who we are when they’re losing their grip on reality. It’s a horrible truth, and one the two of us have come to take in stride. We provide a little extra magic for those people when we can.
“Hm. We’ll see. Do me a favor. Tell him to hold off on the ice until after the New Year. Though I don’t think any of us would mind a dusting of snow,” she tells me, brow quirking knowingly.
“Just a dusting, though,” I say, making sure I get her request right.
“People on the island can’t drive in anymore than that. Just give us some pretty flakes to look at. We’ll take a nice warm-up after. Thanks.” She pats me on the shoulder and continues on by, leaving me to smile after her.
“I’ll put in a word for you,” I say.
“You do that, Blaze.”
A scoff leaves me as I open my car door and step inside. Before I can put the car in reverse, my phone pings with a message. I lean back in the seat and pull my phone from my pocket, only to curse under my breath.
North
How’s the island, brother?
I wondered how long it would take to hear from him. When I saw the frost on the ground this morning, I knew it wouldn’t be long. Typically, he only arrives the day before the festival.
It’s nice.
Did you like my gift?
The frost? People think you’re here early.
Maybe I am.
When are you really getting in?
Why? Are you hiding something from me?
My thoughts drift to Juniper.
Give me another day.
I can practically hear him laughing through the screen.
I’ll see you Wednesday.
A sigh leaves me as I close the phone and sink my head back against the headrest. I’m thinking of all the things I need to finish today in order to keep my day open tomorrow. There’s something about her that’s drawing me in, something that has my hands itching more than usual.
It’s been a long time since I’ve found someone that grabbed my attention for more than a single glance.
A long, long time.
My phone rings again. I flip it back over, expecting it to be North again, except it isn’t.
It’s Danielle, and she’s sent me a phone number.
I frown at the message.
What’s this?
Danielle (Hudson’s)
Juni’s number
And her favorite restaurant on the island is Bluebeard’s Bakery. Chocolate croissant. Blonde roast coffee, two sugars, splash of oat milk, toffee drizzle. Hot. Always.
I huff with amusement.
Thanks for the info.
Bring her dog a bacon muffin if you really want to impress her.
Noted. Thanks Danielle.