Chapter 14
The town spared no watt or garland. From the curve of Main Street to the riotously lit town square, every surface groaned under the weight of tinsel and twinkle lights strung so dense they practically broadcast their own AM station.
Wreaths hung from every streetlamp, and every porch had its quota of blow-mold Santas and wire-frame reindeer.
The world smelled like pine and cinnamon, overlaid with the memory of car exhaust.
Grace huddled at the edge of the festivities, flanked by her usual suspects: Caroline, Anna, Olivia, and Bryant Paulsen.
She wore her heaviest coat, the one she’d bought in Anchorage and never expected to need again, but the wind still found its way up her sleeves.
The cold had a way of burning, especially when you’d spent most of your life south of the frost line.
Caroline had commandeered a high-top table in the temporary beer garden, wedged between a churro stand and a booth where local kids sold “authentic North Pole snowballs,” white felt, eighty percent glue.
She looked unbothered by the temperature, gesturing with a plastic cup of hot buttered rum and telling a story loud enough to scandalize the carolers fifty feet away.
“…and then she says to the pastor, ‘if the Lord didn’t want me to have these, why did He make them so easy to get pierced?’” Caroline threw her head back, blonde hair a flag in the breeze.
Anna howled, nearly choking on her cider.
Olivia, per usual, just raised an eyebrow and looked away, but the corners of her mouth curled.
Bryant stood slightly apart, hands jammed in the pockets of his black wool coat, watching the crowd with the same careful vigilance he brought to his day job.
His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and every so often he’d glance over at Grace, as if checking to make sure she hadn’t wandered off or dissolved into mist.
She’d expected the night to feel anxious, a repeat of every public event in recent memory.
A puzzle to be solved, a vision to interpret, a murder to prevent.
But tonight, the town’s joy was so loud, so insistent, that for a minute Grace allowed herself to believe that nothing bad could happen under all this light.
“You know,” Anna said, voice low so only Grace could hear, “when I was a kid, I thought all this was just for me. Like, the mayor and the Chamber of Commerce woke up every year and asked, ‘What would make Anna happy?’”
Grace snorted. “Given your involvement in the PTA, I wouldn’t be shocked if you lobbied for it.”
Anna grinned, unrepentant. “Once a mermaid, always a diva.”
Bryant stepped forward, clearing his throat. “There’s a carriage lined up,” he said, nodding toward the edge of the square. “With the horses and everything. Caroline said you might want to ride?”
Grace blinked. “Like, a sleigh ride?”
Bryant shrugged. “Less sleigh, more wagon, but yeah. Hot chocolate included. I checked.”
Caroline leaned in. “You have to go, Gracie. It’s tradition. Next year, they’ll probably try to mechanize it, and then where will we be? Trapped in a Tesla with an animatronic Rudolph.”
Grace hesitated, but Bryant gave her a smile that was all crooked earnestness. “If you don’t want to, we can stay here—”
She interrupted him. “No, I want to. Really. I just—” She looked at her friends, their faces expectant and, in Caroline’s case, borderline predatory. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Bryant offered her his arm. She took it, ignoring the warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the layers of wool and polyester.
They crossed the square, weaving through clumps of families and teens, past a group of carolers whose harmonies had started to fray after the third hour outdoors.
At the curb, a pair of horses, patient and enormous, waited hitched to a white carriage decorated with silver bows.
The driver, a high school sophomore in a red velvet jacket, grinned and waved them aboard.
They climbed in, settling onto the broad bench seat, and the driver handed them both insulated travel mugs. Grace took hers, testing the lid before sipping. The chocolate was molten and thick, spiked with something that numbed her lips. She shot Bryant a look.
He smiled, sheepish. “Caroline’s influence.”
They rode in silence for a few seconds, the clip-clop of the horses muffled by the snow.
The town blurred by, every house lit up, every window a diorama of family life or staged perfection.
Grace wondered if the residents ever tired of the forced cheer, if they rebelled in secret with blackout curtains and silent nights. She doubted it.
Bryant broke the silence. “I used to do this every year with my mom. Before she got sick.” He didn’t sound sad, just matter-of-fact. “She loved the lights. Used to say the dark only won if you let it.”
Grace traced the rim of her mug. “She sounds smart.”
He nodded. “She was. Dad was the strict one, but she was the glue.” He hesitated, then said, “Do you ever think about next year?”
It was an odd question, especially for someone who’d spent most of the last two months keeping people alive one week at a time.
Grace considered it, the idea of a whole future stretching out, uninterrupted by visions or disaster.
She tried to imagine herself in this carriage next year, older, maybe happier, definitely more confident in the coat.
“Yeah,” she said. “I do. Not in detail, but… yeah.”
He sipped his own chocolate, thinking. “I’ll probably still be here. Deputy until I retire, then I’ll just fish and do odd jobs. I like fixing things. The mayor’s always looking for volunteers to build parade floats.” He grinned. “You?”
Grace smiled, the answer easier than she’d expected. “Fix up my house. Maybe start running again, if the sidewalks ever thaw. Have my name as a constant presence on the police payroll as a psychic—” She paused, laughing at herself. “That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
Bryant’s expression didn’t change. “Not at all. They’re already benefiting from your talent.”
She looked out at the street, at the children pelting each other with handfuls of cottony snow. “I want to stay here,” she said, surprising herself. “I hadn’t thought very much about this being my forever place in the beginning, but it definitely is.”
He was silent a moment, then reached across the carriage and covered her hand with his. His gloves were rough, the skin beneath even rougher. “I’d like it if you stayed,” he said.
Grace felt her cheeks flush, but it was a good heat. “You barely know me,” she said, teasing.
Bryant smiled, slow and sure. “I know you enough.”
At that moment, the town’s fireworks launched. First, a single gold streamer, then a fan of blue and red, then a full barrage of exploding light. The horses stopped at the corner, driver turning to let them watch as the sky filled with stars and the reflected glow danced in the snowbanks.
Bryant leaned closer, voice low. “If I kiss you, are you going to see the future?”
Grace grinned. “If you’re lucky, maybe.”
He kissed her, careful at first, then more certain as she kissed back. The snow, the fireworks, the town’s overzealous music, all of it faded. For a minute, there was only warmth, and the taste of chocolate, and the steady beat of her own heart.
When they pulled apart, Grace was smiling so hard her jaw hurt. “You know,” she said, “if you keep doing that, I’ll get used to it.”
Bryant laughed, the sound echoing off the houses. “I’ll risk it.”
They rode the rest of the loop in contented silence, hands linked on the seat. The horses steamed, impatient to get back to their barn and the promise of apples.
When the carriage returned to the square, the party had begun to thin.
Parents hustled sugar-bombed kids into minivans, the carolers had traded songs for thermoses of hot wine, and the churro stand was nearly sold out.
Grace and Bryant hopped down, thanking the driver, and made their way back to the high-top where the others waited.
Caroline saw them approach and burst into applause. “About damn time! I thought you two were going to elope and leave us to clean up the mess.”
Anna whistled. “Did you get it over with, are you officially a couple, or are you going to make us all suffer until New Year’s?”
Olivia just grinned, her white coat glowing in the lamplight. “They’re cute, aren’t they?”
Grace felt her face heat, but she didn’t care. She squeezed Bryant’s hand. “You could have warned me they were going to make a scene.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have helped.”
Anna nudged her. “You okay?”
Grace nodded. “I’m good. I mean it.”
Anna gave her a quick side-hug. “You deserve it.”
“Deserve is a strong word,” Grace said, but let herself lean into the warmth anyway.
As the hour grew later, the square began to empty of the few remaining families, leaving behind the childless adults, most of whom were enjoying far too much of the “special” eggnog.
But at nearly eleven o’clock, even adults were starting to trickle out.
Caroline, indefatigable as she was, started talking about hot toddies and foot baths.
The five of them stood at the edge of the festivities, when Olivia pointed across the square.
“Look,” she said.
A Channel 5 news van had parked just beyond the curb, and the unmistakable form of Tessa Monroe stood in front of the camera, coatless in a sapphire dress that shimmered under the lights.
She talked into the microphone with her usual certainty, every hair in place, eyes blazing.
Grace could tell from the tilt of her head and the crisp articulation that Tessa was in her element: audience, spotlight, and total control.
“She’s fearless,” Bryant said, almost admiring.
Grace watched Tessa, saw the way she gestured with one hand, fingers playing absently with a new necklace: a teardrop of iridescent glass on a heavy silver chain, catching every bit of stray light.
Just a short distance away, a police office stood in the shadows, watching Tessa.
Probably the one Bryant had assigned to watch her.
The sight sending a shiver up her spine. She remembered the raven’s warning, the sense of being watched. The hair on her arms prickled, but she forced herself to breathe, to focus on what she could see and not what she feared.
Tessa finished her segment, exchanged a brisk hug with her cameraman, and made her way across the square toward them, boots clacking on the packed snow.
She moved with her usual confidence, but there was an edge to her stride, as if she were walking through water, or pushing against a current only she could feel.
She stopped in front of the group, surveying them with a single arched brow. “Out for a night of revelry?” she said. “Or are we doing psychic stakeouts now?”
Grace smiled, though her jaw ached from the effort. “Just taking in the lights. You looked good on TV.”
Tessa preened. “I always do. But thanks.”
Caroline gestured at the necklace. “That’s gorgeous, darling. Who’s the lucky jeweler?”
Tessa glanced down, twisting the pendant between thumb and forefinger. “A gift. From a fan. No note, just a pretty box on my desk this morning.” She shrugged.
Olivia stepped closer, peering at the chain. “May I?” she asked, and when Tessa nodded, Olivia lifted the glass teardrop, examining it in the light. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “But heavy. Feels like leaded crystal.”
Tessa laughed. “If it turns my skin green, I’ll sue. But for now, it matches my eyes, so I’m keeping it.”
“Any luck finding the Christmas light thief?” she asked, remembering Tessa’s earlier complaint.
Tessa scowled, clearly irritated. “No, because someone,” she glanced at Bryant, “decided I needed a personal bodyguard. Do you know how hard it is to sneak up on a suspect when you’ve got a uniformed officer following you everywhere?”
Bryant raised his hands in surrender. “Just following orders. And it’s for your safety.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “If anyone’s going to murder me, they better get in line behind my executive producer.”
Anna laughed. “You know, I think the thief is just a bored teenager. Last year, some kid made an entire igloo out of other people’s inflatables.”
Tessa snorted. “If it’s just a kid, I’ll buy them a soda. But if it’s a grown man, I’m going to destroy him on live TV.”
Caroline put a hand on Tessa’s arm. “You can’t destroy everyone, honey. Sometimes you just have to let the lights go.”
Tessa grinned, not unkindly. “Not my style. But I’ll keep it in mind.”
Grace felt the tension drain from her, replaced by a sort of resigned affection. Tessa was impossible, but she was also, against all odds, one of them. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that even the most unbreakable people needed to be protected.
All she had to do was stay alive until midnight tonight, and then, she’d be safe. That shouldn’t be so hard, should it?