Page 2 of Blood and Bells

I whirl on him, brandishing my clipboard like it doubles as a stake. “Why would I intentionally remove my own centerpiece?”

“I don’t know. I’m not an event planner. Does it add a touch of drama?”

“Do you have any idea how much work goes into this gala? The tree is the centerpiece, Nick. The centerpiece! Without it, the whole event is ruined.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my meltdown. “I had no idea Christmas trees were this vital to your well-being. Do you want to hear my theory about how it came to disappear?”

“Is it anything like your theory on how vampires and garlic came to be associated due to an over-seasoned spaghetti aglio e olio? Pass. I don’t need conjecture,” I say, resisting another jab with my clipboard. “I need solutions. Unless you know where I can find a replacement tree the size of a small skyscraper on thirty seconds’ notice, go bother someone else.”

Nick doesn’t budge. If anything, his smirk widens, revealing the slightest hint of fangs. “Oh, but I do know something you don’t.”

I fold my arms, glaring up at him. “If it’s anything except the tree’s exact location, I don’t care.” I use my very best hardened stare to convey my irritation to him.

He leans closer, and I catch a faint whiff of something dark and spicy, like cinnamon mixed with danger. “Your little tree problem isn’t an accident.”

“I didn’t think the tree magically uprooted itself and went for a stroll down Main Street.”

“Let’s just say there are some less-than-festive forces at work in Willow Creek this year.”

Before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his cryptic nonsense, a loud crash echoes through the square.

As I whip around, a string of Christmas lights skids across the snow, and a group of small, pointy-eared figures darts after them. They’re giggling like maniacs, their tiny boots kicking up snow as they dart between the lampposts in a blur of red and green.

“Are those…” I crane my neck. “Elves?”

“Yes. Rogue elves,” Nick says, stepping up beside me. “Nasty little creatures. They’re like feral cats with opposable thumbs and better teamwork. They smell worse though.”

“Why? Why are there elves?”

“Well, when an elf⁠—”

“Stop.”

The tallest elf, standing at an astronomical two feet tall, stops long enough to kick over a candy cane decoration, cackling like it’s the funniest thing in the world. His companions cheer him on before scampering off into the shadows, their mischievous faces and pointy ears blending into the darkness.

I press my hands to my temples, willing myself to stay calm. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Looks like someone’s been naughty this year,” Nick quips, far too cheerful for my liking.

“Don’t make this worse.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m simply observing.” His silver eyes practically twinkle. “Fact is, you’ve got a supernatural problem, Frost. Lucky for you, I’m an expert in dealing with these kinds of things.”

A small, disbelieving noise escapes me. “You’re an expert at being a pain in my planning spreadsheets.”

Another crash sounds, this one louder than the last. The elves have tipped over one of the nearby market stalls, sending a cascade of gingerbread cookies into the snow. My heart sinks further as the cookies are crushed into the snow, and I scream at this fresh disaster. The elves giggle again, the sound high-pitched and eerie. Like tiny little gremlins, they scurry off, delighted with the shiny lights they’ve stolen.

Nick tilts his head, watching me with what might almost pass for sympathy. Almost. “Holly, be honest. Do you really think you can handle this on your own?”

“I’ve handled parties going wrong before.”

“This is a bit more specialized than what you’re used to dealing with,” he says, gesturing to the chaos. “Rogue elves are tricky. You’ll need someone who knows how to handle them.”

“And you think that someone is you?”

He grins, his fangs catching the light. “I’m a vampire, Holly. Chaos is my specialty.”

I blink at him, then laugh. It’s not a happy, amused sound. It’s the kind of laugh you let out when someone tells you something so ridiculous your brain briefly short-circuits.