Page 92 of Blood and Bells

Frank’s gravelly voice cuts through the noise just as Meribel taps her triangle and the square hushes like a curtain falling. I turn to see the town mayor trudging over, his glasses sliding down his nose, a smudge of soot on his knitted Christmas sweater. His eyes—sharp even behind the weariness—scan the square before settling on me.

Authority settles with him. The square quiets.

He strides over, brushing soot from his sleeve as he stops in front of me.

“Holly, that snow globe needs changing back. I didn’t hire you as my event planner for nothing.”

I blink and the celebratory haze slips away. “I don’t think I know how, Frank.”

He rests a hand briefly on my shoulder. “You do. You’ve been doing it all night. We don’t force it—we turn it. All that fear, all that pressure…we let the town carry it together. That’s what fixes things here.”

I nod, and something behind my sternum sharpens through the exhaustion. I glance at Nick, who’s still standing nearby, his face illuminated by the glow of holiday lights. We’ve fought together, bickered together—and now, we have to finish this together.

Our eyes meet, and there it is: trust.

Not borrowed, not bargained. Earned.

Nick coughs, clearly forced.

“Before we begin, Frank,” he says, grinding his heel into the churned snow, “where, exactly, have you been? We could have used you when we were dealing with a particularly violent wind sprite who was distributing anything but cheer in a frankly hostile manner.”

Frank gives a lopsided, unapologetic shrug. “Here. Just…not in the way you wanted. You know the rules. Power answers power. If I’d stepped in directly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation—we’d be filing reports about the crater.”

He brushes his hands together, as if that settles matters.

“So I kept it small. Strengthened the ward lines. Ringing the volunteer phone with directions. Boosting the choir’s morale using mince pies. That sort of thing.” His gaze flicks between us. “And I may have…adjusted a few schedules and made sure a certain vampire and event planner were assigned the same tasks.”

I drop my hands to my hips.

“I wasn’t forcing anything,” he adds quickly. “Just making sure the right people kept ending up in the same place. When you two work together, the town steadies. I didn’t know Santa would go this far—but I knew Willow Creek would answer better if you were working together.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand as the realization lands on me like Christmas morning. “Are you saying that you did all of this just to bring us together?”

Frank shakes his head with a low, knowing chuckle. “No. That’s not how this works. I had no idea Santa was going to steal the tree, or half of the rest of it. But I saw what happened when you two work together. It brought out the best in everyone, so I simply stayed out of the way. Ninety percent of being a good cupid is knowing when not to interfere. And look, here we are. The rogue elves are gone. Santa’s gone. The snow globe’s back. Not bad for a reluctant partnership.”

Nick raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but lets it pass.

“You were both…persistently difficult,” Frank adds, dryly. “I nearly stepped in more than once. Santa had more bite than expected, and I’ve got a town to keep in one piece—not to mention a reputation to maintain.”

“Well,” Nick says, with a faint sigh, his gaze flicking to mine, “glad we could be of service.”

I’m not entirely sure how I imagined teaming up with Nick would end, but now we have and I don’t want it to be over. He gives a half-smile, like he’s read my thoughts, and his usual confidence settles back into place.

“Looks like stubbornness actually got us somewhere after all,” he says.

“What about the tree, though?” My nerves catch up with me and my voice tightens. “How do we restore it? It’s the centerpiece of the entire festival. And—” I check my watch and groan. “We’ve got until tomorrow. Look at this place. It’s a disaster.”

Frank laughs, the sound warm and unexpected enough to cut through my panic. His eyes twinkle as some of the weariness fades from his face, a surprising lightness settling in his gaze.

“Well, Holly, we’ve already established that Christmas can survive broken eggnog, rogue elves, and a frankly irresponsible amount of glitter. Restoring a snow globe is practically administrative.”

He gestures toward the platform.

“The tree can be fixed. All it needs is people who care for each other. I wonder if we have anyone⁠—”

“Oh!” Casey barrels forward, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “Is it me and Sarah Waterson? We’ve got really strong feelings. She gave me a candy cane once. That was a real moment.”

Frank closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Somewhere behind him, Sarah Waterson goes crimson and disappears into her friend’s shoulder.