Chapter 26 Tash #2
Livia smiled. "It's a focusing band. The witches in our family have used them for generations.
It's supposed to hum when your magic gets too strong.
Think of it as a gentle reminder to breathe.
The runes are old, from my own mother's side.
You're the first in a long time to wear it.
We've been producing a lot of dragons for the last few generations, and few witches. "
Mere's answer was barely above a whisper, but it shook me. "Thank you, Grandma. I'll take good care of it."
Watching it happen, watching the way Livia included my girls as if sixteen years could be washed away with tea and family jewelry, nearly undid me.
I just perched on the edge of the couch, tracing the rim of my teacup, not trusting myself to speak.
It was an odd mixture of being touched and yet a little angry.
Chance stood, then knelt between the girls for his turn. "I went a little old-school for you both," he explained. "I made both of these."
He handed Fifi a box, smooth as river rock, made of golden wood, with little dragons worked into the lid.
She flipped it open and gasped. "My necklace fits in here!"
He grinned. "Figured you could use a safe place for treasures. No offense to your backpack, but dragons are particular about storage."
Fifi hugged it to her chest.
For Mere, he'd made a bowl out of very dark wood, maybe ebony. It was small, but the surface shimmered with engraved flowers, each petal a different texture. Mere ran her hands over the carvings, awe in her eyes.
"It's for seeing the future, right?"
"Maybe. Scrying is a favored method of asking questions that don't have good answers for witches. Thought you might like the design."
Mere nodded, too moved for words.
Then it was my turn. If the world had a record for "Most Awkward Gift Recipient," I would've snatched it in a heartbeat.
But Chance just winked, stepped around the twins, and produced the most dazzling pin I'd ever seen.
It was heavy, intricate, and unmistakably old.
Rubies and diamonds curled into a flower, with a dragon's head at the center.
My brain glitched. "It's… wow. Chance, it's—" It was definitely extravagant. Beyond so.
"My grandmother used to wear it every winter. She'd say the dragon flower only bloomed for people who protected what they loved." He smiled, careful. "You fit the legend."
He didn't wait for permission, just pinned it to my sweater, close enough to my collarbone to brush my skin. His hands stayed a second too long, but I didn't mind. Not even a little.
The room was so quiet I could hear the snow tapping the window.
Livia's eyes were glassy again, and Xavier clapped Chance so hard on the shoulder it actually made him wince.
Across the hearth, Maeve jiggled her package for Mere.
"I thought you might want this now," she said, shy for once.
The book Mere pulled from the wrapping was battered, cloth-bound, and clearly old. "Is that a grimoire?" I asked. I'd been doing a ton of research on the internet about witches and dragons. They were all mythical, but some truths peeked through the legends.
Maeve nodded. "It belonged to my mother, and before that, her mother. It's meant to pass on when the next witch in the neighborhood is ready. Just, uh, don't try the fruitcake spell on page eighty-eight. Mom said it was cursed."
The line cracked everyone up, but Mere just hugged the book to her chest and mouthed a silent thank you before launching herself at Maeve for a hug.
Then they both grinned, wrestling a giant package out of the gift pile and plopping it in Livia's lap.
The unwrapping revealed a scrapbook-style album.
The cover was crooked, homemade, and stitched with stickers and glittery letters.
Every page was loaded with photos. Some from their baby years, some from soccer games, even a few with Huey in the center, tongue lolling.
Livia's jaw dropped. She paged through, silent, only stopping when she reached a picture of the twins from last Halloween. Mere as a cheerleader, Fifi as a scarecrow. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away, not caring who saw.
Even Chance was knocked sideways. He hung over Livia's shoulder, traced each photo, then looked up at me with a warmth that nearly liquefied my knees.
"You did good," he said, soft enough that only I could catch it.
"I didn't do this," I said, nodding to the album. "I didn't even know they were doing it."
He squeezed my arm. "I didn't mean the gift. I meant the girls. They're wonderful."
Well. Okay. I swallowed thickly and bit back the tears. What a wonderful thing to say. I always thought my girls were fantastic, but it was really gratifying to hear someone else give me some kudos.
I had to move on or I was really going to cry. I pulled out the box with the gift I'd barely wrestled away from Huey and slid it across the rug to Chance.
He eyed the package, suspicious. "What is it? It's big."
"Just open it," I dared him.
He tore the paper and promptly burst out laughing. The world's biggest dragon plush snarled up at him.
Even Xavier grinned.
Chance wasn't shy about it. He hugged the dragon to his chest, then peered at me over its lumpy head, eyes bright with something wild.
"New mascot for the house," he declared.
I blushed, hard, I couldn't help it. The look he aimed at me was equal parts thank you and challenge. I didn't know if I wanted to hug him or run, so I settled for another cookie and prayed my cheeks didn't catch fire.
Huey broke the spell by launching himself at the dragon. It was a little bit bigger than he was, but that didn't stop him from tearing off up the stairs with it, both twins shrieking and going after him.
The rest of the night unraveled in slow motion.
The fire snapped, the snow doubled its effort.
Maeve, Livia, and Xavier sat by the tree, sorting through their own modest haul.
Mostly books, candles, and a few batches of Maeve's jam.
Once the dragon was well out of reach, Huey seemed content to patrol the perimeter, tail wagging as he checked the floor for dropped crumbs.
Chance sat by the fire, but his eyes shone gold and sharp in the dancing light. The look they gave me broke every old fear. It didn't matter that two months ago, I'd have called the whole thing a fever dream. Here, in this moment, I belonged.
Eventually, the twins thundered upstairs, arguing about what movie to watch this evening. I did one last lap of the house. Mugs rinsed in the sink, wrapping paper put away, Beth's kids' presents tucked under the tree.
Tomorrow, we'd play Santa with the littles. Beth's kids would wake up in a house where nobody yelled. My girls would wake up in a house where they could get training for their unusual gifts.
Worry still hummed under my skin. So much happening.
SkyArc, dragons, the whole mess waiting outside our snow-globe glass, but down the hall, two kids and one overworked dog were snoring like champions.
This time, Christmas Eve wasn't something to get through on hope. It was something worth guarding.