Page 20 of Blood and Bells

She gives me a stare that suggests I’m already on thin ice, but takes my arm anyway, and I decide not to be thrilled. I fail. Immediately.

I was supposed to be using all of this to protect my coven. Right now, I don’t care about that.

Right now, I want to make Holly Frost smile.

And that’s more dangerous than whatever Frank’s not telling us.

Probably.

Chapter Seven

Nick leads me out of the diner, and everyone’s watching. It makes me feel awkward, conscious that every slight mistake will be noticed. He gives the waitress a wink as he opens the door, and the wink lands. I wish he’d stop doing that. Or at least save it for people who are not working.

The pressure is staggering. We should be brainstorming ways to find the Hollow of Mischief. I should be out looking for that stupid tree. But right now, it feels like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, and I’m too tired to keep fighting.

Outside, the wreaths along Main Street tilt toward the fairy lights. Snow lifts in little swirls. The evening air is cold and kind. Shop windows glow. Somewhere, a brass trio attempts Good King Wenceslas with enthusiasm if not precision. Hank and Marvin, the Folder twins, are practicing knot-tying with red licorice ropes, and then eating the evidence.

The world outside seems stuck in some kind of limbo, just like me. My thoughts drift as we walk toward Hemoglow with the snow falling gently around us, their dazzling display helping to clear the noise in my head. The town lights twinkle against the backdrop of the dark sky, and the cozy cheer settles in enough that I can breathe again.

Nick slows at each icy patch, and I’m quite grateful his arm is there to steady me.

“You good?” he asks, leaning forward with a genuine, unguarded look.

I try to muster up some enthusiasm, but it’s hard when everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of disaster. We’re one carol away from a catastrophe, and it’s going to take more than a Christmas miracle to fix this one. I would kill for a manageable amount of catastrophe, like the town sliding into a yawning chasm of infinite despair or finding out the nativity scene is carnivorous.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

Nick doesn’t say anything for a moment, probably sensing something is off through whatever sixth sense vampires possess. “Willing to let me in on what you’re thinking about?”

A sharp retort rises in my mouth, but it gets swallowed back before it can leap out. I’m on edge, and even though Draven irritates me, none of this is his fault. Not specifically.

“I’m fine,” I lie, and by the look on his face, he clearly knows I’m fibbing. “I’m mostly fine. Closer, anyway.”

“Settle down, Indigo Girls,” he teases. “Halfway?”

“Making progress towards it. This is a lot to take in. Elves. Weird, talking heads. Commerce was my favorite class in school, and none of these topics were really covered in any detail.”

“It’s a lot,” he says. “More than I expected.”

“Why are you really helping, Draven? I doubt it is a sudden love of carols. What do you get out of this?”

He doesn’t flinch at my tone. Instead, he gives me a small, sheepish shrug. It’s almost adorable. Almost boyish. And I decide I do not like the way it makes me want to like him.

“The pleasure of your company?”

A small scoff escapes my lips. “Sure. I believe you.”

He rubs the back of his neck, self-consciously. “I know this might look a bit opportunistic. But it’s not about taking advantage of your situation or making the vampires into something we’re not.” He glances toward the square, his eyes glinting with something darker than humor. “My coven likes it here. Willow Creek works. And when things start to go wrong, people tend to look for someone to blame, and I’d rather we weren’t the obvious suspect when they do.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need you turning this into…whatever this is for you.”

The square should be brimming with holiday cheer, but it’s as deflated as the snowman that one of the town’s residents is trying to patch up with black electrical tape. Faint traces of garland still hang from the lamp posts, but they’re half-fallen, as though the town’s Christmas spirit has been abandoned with the missing tree. The space feels hollow, the empty patch of snow where it should stand only highlighting the chaos that’s been left behind.

Nick watches my clenched jaw for a moment, then speaks in a lower voice. “Holly⁠—”

I cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever sympathetic words he’s about to offer. “Don’t. I know Frank’s trying to help, but my mom’s said the same thing before. It’s not like I can fix it all at once.”

Nick rolls his shoulders, visibly uncomfortable for the first time ever. “Look, I don’t know your family dynamics, but I know you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. That’s why you’re acting like this. And it’s not good for you.”