Page 23 of Blood and Bells

I shrug, trying to brush off my emotions as she hits the nail on the head. “That’s why a coven is so important. It’s a thing of permanence in an ocean of impermanence.”

“And that’s why you started the bar here?”

“It lets us be a part of Willow Creek.” My eyes go distant. “The hardest thing for humans to understand is how unbelievably long a century is. It’s the longest possible thing you can imagine, and I mean that literally. Human brains aren’t very good at large scales. By the third century, it becomes hard to keep going. You’ve done everything you’ve ever dreamed of. You’ve had just about every experience there is to have.”

“You give them purpose.” She places her hand on my arm, and my skin tingles with the contact. We share a look, a real one, and some of that glimmer I’ve been working so hard on expands. She leans forward. “Who gives you purpose, Niklaus Draven?”

My entire body reacts, a flush of electricity jolting through me. Holly’s asked a real question, and more than that, she’s looking at me like it matters. Like she’s worried I’m sad. Or lonely. If I had blood, there’d probably be blushing involved, possibly combustion. Instead, the entirely unhelpful urge to kiss her until the room forgets its carols surges through me.

It’s exhilarating.

It’s too soon, so with a profound force of willpower, I force a nonchalant smile onto my face.

“Oh. This and that.”

My answer, my reaction, all of it is too casual for the moment, and the glimmer in her eyes vanishes. The wall snaps back into place. She moves away. The moment breaks.

I blew it.

There were only so many ways that could have gone. I was unprepared for my feelings, and she caught me by surprise. Startling, really, and yet another thing that hasn’t happened in a very long time.

“Why don’t you tell me about the Hollow of Mischief?” she asks.

This isn’t a conversation I want to have. Not now. I want to recapture our moment, that shared whisper of intimacy we experienced just now. Wanting that moment back more than I’ve wanted anything in centuries is…inconvenient.

God, wanting her more than anything in centuries is worse.

“Tomorrow,” I say.

“Now,” she counters, and business Holly reappears. A sigh arrives with that realization, and I lean forward. Winning Holly’s affection is clearly a long game. Fine. Time isn’t exactly a constraint. First, I’m a vampire. Second, I’m a vampire, and we’re on a mission to save Christmas together. That means she’s stuck with me. And third, I’m a vampire. I’m awesome. My experience gives me a few advantages.

“There’s not much to say,” I shrug, attempting understatement. “It’s a pocket dimension of unspeakable evil. It’s a terrible place of endless sadness and misery. There’s always jazz playing, for reasons no one has successfully explained.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I never joke about jazz. That’s how Isaac Newton almost destroyed Cambridge.”

“Why would they have taken my tree to an evil pocket dimension?”

“Who knows why rogue elves do anything? They’re elves.”

She’s right to ask, and I wonder if I should tell her the truth. The real answer is that they wouldn’t, not without direction. They’re definitely working for someone else, but with no clear suspect, speculation feels premature. Suspicions are one thing, but without proof, they’re the kind of thing that will worry her, and so my thoughts remain mine. For now.

“How are we supposed to get it back?”

“I’ll bring my coven. They’ll help. It should be fine.”

“What should I expect? Goblins? Goblins with swords? Fire Goblins with swords who go around saying, “How about this heat?” What can I do to prepare?”

“You’re staying home,” I say, aiming for heroic and landing somewhere near concerned. “I’m not bringing you into the Hollow of Mischief.”

“Says you,” she snaps, veering off script. “I’m going. This is my Winter Wonderland, Draven, and in this little movie miracle you’re imagining, you’re the sidekick.”

I laugh and raise my hands in mock surrender, delighted with how easily she’s able to run through all my defenses. Holly Frost is blade-sharp, and there’s no getting anything past her. The sooner I realize that, the better.

“You’re stunningly insufferable; do you know that?”

She gives me a flat look. “It’s been said. So tomorrow, then? You organize your coven tonight, and tomorrow we’ll get the tree back?”