Chapter 16
The hour had dissolved from late into lost. Three a.m., or near enough, but the Lantern House blazed with as much life as if it were six in the evening and someone had just put the lasagna in.
The fire worked overtime, popping like it had an audience, and the scents of chocolate and scorched cinnamon clung everywhere, smothering even the ghost of the winter wind rattling at the windows.
Grace sat cross-legged on the braided rug, mug cradled between both hands.
She wore Bryant’s borrowed hoodie over her dress, the hem of the old police academy sweatshirt grazing her knees.
The effect was more “teen sleepover” than “woman who had just pulled a body from the jaws of a supernatural death,” but that was fine with her.
Anything to stave off the shake in her bones that always came when adrenaline ran dry.
Caroline sprawled on the couch, gold lamé pants abandoned for black silk PJs, hair up in a lopsided topknot and face bare of anything but old mascara.
Her mug was already half-drained, leaving a tide line of cocoa and something that might have been whiskey.
Olivia had claimed the nearest armchair, a vision of rumpled elegance in a white cashmere robe and tartan slippers, her hair still picture-perfect despite the hour.
Anna, pink-faced and punchy, perched on the hearth with a throw blanket over her shoulders, eyes glazed and bright.
No one spoke for a long time. The fire popped happily, and there was the occasional clink of mug against teeth. Grace let herself relax for a moment, safe in the knowledge that no one here expected her to carry the conversation.
Anna finally broke. “If I ever try to save a reporter’s life again, someone just chuck me in the lake, okay? I’ll hibernate until this town becomes a little safer.”
Olivia grunted her agreement, but Caroline sat up, lips pursed, and wagged a finger at Anna. “You love the drama. Admit it.”
Anna grinned. “Not this kind of drama. Give me high school bake sale sabotage any day. Next time Tessa wants to play Scooby-Doo, she’s on her own.”
Grace snorted. “She’ll probably want to interview her own attempted murderer before we can even file the report.”
A round of tired laughter, nothing sharp about it. Grace felt the last of the tension melt off her, the warm weight of friends both real and recent working better than any sedative.
It was Olivia who glanced up first, listening. “That’s him,” she said, and the rest of the room quieted in anticipation.
The knock was gentle, almost polite. Grace set her mug down and rose, hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands.
She unlocked the door, and Bryant stepped in.
He looked like hell, and she could have kissed him for it.
Stubble on his jaw, shirt wrinkled, eyes red but wide awake.
He carried a folder and a reusable coffee cup with a holiday squirrel on it, neither of which seemed to belong in his hands.
“You all still up?” he asked, though he clearly knew the answer.
Olivia got up and made a show of opening her arms. “Bryant, darling, you look like a PSA for what not to do with your life.”
He grinned, barely. “Missed you, too.”
He came to the hearth and let himself sink down beside Anna, who slid over to make room. Caroline motioned to the side table, and he took the hint, grabbing the bottle of something brown and pouring a healthy dose into his coffee.
No one asked what he’d found. They just waited, because everyone in the room had grown up knowing how to wait for bad news.
Bryant looked around, the fire reflecting in his green eyes. “Tessa’s fine,” he said, “if you can call ‘chewing out two paramedics and a doctor’ fine. She’s at the hospital now. Should be released in the morning.”
Anna blew out a breath she’d obviously been holding.
Caroline said, “What about the necklace?”
Bryant nodded, took a swig, and set the cup down on the stone.
“It’s evidence now. We ran a quick check at the station.
There was an enchantment on it, sure as hell, but nothing that matches any of the local coven signatures.
Our consultant”—he said this with a grim smile, nodding at Olivia—“thinks it was a custom job. Probably bought on the sly. Someone with a grudge and a few grand to spend.”
Olivia crossed her legs, robe parting to reveal impossibly smooth skin. “So the killer’s out of town?”
Bryant shook his head. “Not necessarily. We just don’t know.
Could be local, could be a tourist, could be someone who passed through years ago and still hates the place.
” He looked at Grace, gaze steady. “You were right, by the way. The spell was meant to kill. Took some serious effort to disguise it as a gift, but once she put it on…”
His words trailed off. Grace remembered the way the necklace had writhed, the sound of the chain splitting skin. She tasted bile and marshmallow, and tried to focus.
Caroline frowned. “So, what now?”
Bryant opened the folder, flipped through a few pages.
“We’re calling this guy the Holiday Killer.
Not creative, but it’s what the press will use.
Tommy Briggs at Halloween, Tessa Monroe at Christmas, and, if you believe that damn bird, someone’s lined up for Valentine’s Day. That means we have, what, six weeks?”
Olivia picked invisible lint from her robe. “He’s escalating. Two months apart, now less. That’s classic serial, not even hiding it anymore.”
Anna’s voice was small for once. “Could it be someone we know?”
Grace answered without thinking. “It always is. You don’t kill people for fun unless you care about the result. Otherwise, you just go somewhere else.”
Bryant tried for a smile. “On the bright side, if they keep to the pattern, we’ll have time to prep. Pull in resources. Maybe even bait them.”
Caroline’s laugh was dry. “I’ll bring the fondue set, you bring the crossbow.”
Anna reached for the bottle and poured herself a shot. “All I want for Valentine’s is a weekend without blood on the snow.”
They all laughed, but not much.
Olivia sipped at her cocoa, eyes narrowed. “Is it random, you think? Or is there a reason behind the picks?”
Bryant shrugged. “Tessa was the top of a lot of lists. Enemies, jealous coworkers, even a few ex-lovers. Tommy Briggs, not so much. His file reads like a tragedy, but no one had it out for him. Unless you count the high school principal.”
Caroline gestured with her mug. “Maybe they’re all just… targets of opportunity. Like, whatever makes the biggest splash.”
Grace felt the old prickle at the back of her neck, that sense of being watched not by a person, but by the world itself. She said, “What if it’s not about them at all? What if it’s about us or the town itself?”
They looked at her. The silence had an edge, not sharp, but expectant.
Bryant’s voice was gentle. “You think someone’s sending a message?”
Grace nodded. “If it was just about the kill, it would be easier to hide it. But this? The showiness, the timing… Someone wants attention.”
Caroline put her feet up, gold nail polish gleaming in the firelight. “Honey, you know how many people in this town want attention? Half the population.”
Anna laughed. “And the other half are too busy being disappointed by their kids.”
Olivia raised her mug. “To disappointment, then.”
They clinked glasses. The fire snapped, sending up a shower of sparks.
Bryant closed the folder, set it aside, and fixed his gaze on Grace. “What about you? Any more visions?”
Grace shook her head, and it was the truth. For once, her mind was blank. No omens, no warnings, no sense of what was next. Just the cold and the cocoa and the tiny, clutching fear that this time, she was completely out of her depth.
Bryant seemed to sense this, and covered her hand with his own. His fingers were warm, even through the sleeve.
“Let’s call it a night,” he said. “We’ve all done enough. It’s Christmas celebration time in…” He checked his phone, winced. “Three hours, depending on when you like to wake up. Take the win, for now.”
There was a flurry of motion as the group got up, gathered mugs, and shimmied into their layers. Caroline insisted on a round of air kisses, Anna on a group hug, and Olivia, true to form, managed to slip out the door with nothing but a wave.
Bryant lingered, helping Grace ferry empty cups to the kitchen. When the others had left, he stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her.
“You should try to sleep,” he said. “It’s not good to obsess about these things.”
She wiped down the counter, her hands steady now. “You heading home?”
He hesitated. “Someone’s got to patrol, just in case our friend decides to get creative.”
Grace set the rag aside and crossed the room, stopping just shy of touching him. “Be careful. Please.”
He smiled, small and real. “Always.” He bent and kissed her forehead, the contact so brief it might have been an accident, but she felt it for long minutes after the door closed.
She padded upstairs, undressed with numb fingers, and slid into bed. The Lantern House creaked and whispered, wind moaning in the gutters, but the fire’s warmth lingered, a slow pulse under the skin.
She tried to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t still. She thought of Tessa, of the necklace, of the way the water had seemed to move, alive with intent. She thought of the raven’s promise, of Valentine’s Day, of all the years she’d spent trying to make sense of things she couldn’t control.
She got up and went to the window, the one overlooking the back garden. The snow was perfect, unbroken. Nothing moved.
But in the ash tree at the far end of the yard, she saw a shape. Just a dark lump at first, but then the head cocked, the body shifted. Raven. She blinked, and it was gone.
Grace wrapped her arms around herself, pressed her forehead to the cold pane, and let herself believe it was just a bird, just a night animal, just a piece of the world that didn’t give a damn about her or her town or her borrowed magic.
But she knew better. And she knew it wasn’t over.
In a few hours, the sun would rise. The day would be Christmas, and the town would stagger back to its routines, pretending nothing bad ever happened here. But Grace would remember.
And she would be ready.
But at least she didn’t have to face it alone.