Merry and Bright

VI de Cold Case Psychic Spin Off

Pandora Pine
(Nov 2018)

Etiquetas: Homo, Sobrenatural, Mistério

 
MERRY AND BRIGHT
By
Pandora Pine
 
 Merry and Bright
Copyright © Pandora Pine 2018
 All Rights Reserved
 
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used
in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of
the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons,
places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely
coincidental.
First Digital Edition: November 2018
 
FOR MOM:
To make up for the year you took a bite
out of Santa’s cookie…
 
1

Ronan
 
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
every creature was stirring, especially Ronan O’Mara. The Cold
Case detective was standing in the middle of his usually immaculate
kitchen, which at the moment looked like Christmas had thrown up
all over it.
“Sweet baby cheeses, Ronan! What is all of this? What are you
doing with those grapes, trying to channel Dionysus?” His husband,
psychic Tennyson Grimm, half-shouted.
Ronan was dangling a small bunch of grapes over his upturned
face, looking more like Julius Caesar, truth be told. “Nope! This is
what they do in Spain on Christmas Eve. They eat twelve grapes.”
Ronan plucked the one closest to his mouth with his teeth. He
moaned out loud when the sweetness of the fruit burst over his
tongue.
Ten looked around their kitchen. “Babe, do you think we’re in
Spain?”
“Of course not!” Ronan crunched on another grape. “Remember I
told you I was looking for a Christmas Eve tradition for us to start this
year.” Ronan had been shopping for a tradition for weeks. He had a
list as long as his arm. Nothing had really caught his fancy. Now it
was do or die time. The literal eleventh hour.
“You know Everly Erin won’t be able to eat one grape next
Christmas, never mind twelve, right?” Ten still wore a look on his
face like he thought Ronan had gone off the deep end, for real this
time.
Sighing, Ronan set the bunch of grapes down on the counter
along with a pile of other things. Everly Erin was their unborn
daughter. Conceived back in the spring, via surrogacy and due on
Valentine’s Day next year, all of this was for her. “I know.”
Tennyson looked around the kitchen again. “Usually I can see
where you’re going with something, but I don’t get this, Ronan.
Explain it to me.” His hand slipped into his husband’s giving it a
squeeze.
This was exactly what Ronan needed right now. He’d wanted to
come up with a family tradition to dazzle Tennyson with all on his
own, but maybe it was better if they did it together.
He tugged Ten over to the kitchen island which was covered in
glitter, glue, and clear Christmas balls. “Okay, so I saw this on one of
those morning shows. You get empty plastic Christmas balls and you
pop the top off. Put glue inside and swirl it around until the inside of
the ball is coated, then you put glitter in and shake it around until the
inside walls are covered in glitter. Then, after it dries, you pop the top
back on and hang it on the tree. This doesn’t look anything like it did
on television.” Ronan grimaced at Ten.
With his free hand Ten picked up the green glitter ball gone oh,
so wrong. There was white glue puddled at the bottom with a raft of
glitter floating on top. “No, I’d guess this wasn’t how it looked on
television.” When Ten set the craft project down on the counter, his
hand was covered in green glitter. “What did you have going on at
the stove?”
Ronan felt a blush creeping up his spine. He’d been in a local
craft store last week and had seen lollipop molds and chocolate
melts. The girl who helped him made it sound so simple. “I was
making chocolate lollipops. All I needed to do was melt the chocolate
and pour it into the plastic molds. Then you set the stick in the little
groove in the tray. It didn’t work out that way.” Didn’t work out that
way was an understatement. Ronan had gotten distracted by Dixie
and then started to smell singed sugar. When he tried to pour the
chocolate into the mold, the plastic started melting. He wasn’t one
hundred percent sure, but he thought they were going to need a new
saucepan too.
Ten wrinkled his nose when he got closer to the melted mess
near the sink. He looked up at Ronan without saying a word. “What’s
this?” Ten changed gears seamlessly, pointing to the kitchen table.
“It’s a gingerbread house. The Salem building inspector would
condemn it for sure.” Ronan shrugged. What Tennyson was looking
at in no way, shape or form resembled a gingerbread house. The
raw materials were there. Walls and roof pieces were spackled
together with copious amounts of white frosting while two dozen
types of candy spilled out of various bowls and Tupperware
containers. “I saw this on Pinterest. I guess you could say I nailed it.”
Ten snickered before slapping a hand over his mouth.
Reaching his limit, Ronan sighed, sinking into one of the chairs.
“Explain to me why this is so important to you.” Ten took a seat
across the table from his obviously upset husband. “It isn’t like you to
go to pieces over a lopsided baking project.
“When I was a kid, my Mom and would spend Christmas Eve
shopping for Christmas dinner and we’d come home and bake Toll
House chocolate chip cookies with M&Ms to leave out for Santa, like
we did earlier this afternoon. Even when I was too old to believe in
him, we still did those things. Then, when she died, that family
tradition died with her. These last fourteen years without her I haven’t
had a Christmas tradition. Now, with our baby on the way, I wanted
to start one.” Ronan knew he sounded like a sad sack. He didn’t
care. This was for his little miss.
Ten studied the warped gingerbread house. “Go grab a butter
knife and some cans of soup.” He grinned at his husband.
“Cans of soup?” And Tennyson thought he was the crazy one.
“Yes, go!” Ten started gingerly pulling apart the pieces of the
house Ronan had pieced together.
Ronan had no idea what Ten had in mind but he brought the knife
and three cans of Chicken and Stars soup. “Here you go.”
“Use the knife to scrape of the hardened frosting on those
pieces.” Ten grabbed the pastry bag filled with frosting and started
edging a fresh wall. The cans of soup are to hold the walls in place
while they dry so they don’t slip apart or tilt.”
 Ronan had to admit that was a genius idea. He grabbed the knife
and got to work. “What traditions did your family have?” It was a
slippery question to ask since Ten’s parents kicked him out of the
house on the day he’d graduated from high school for coming out as
gay and psychic.
“Since my parents served Christmas dinner to the poor, we
celebrated Christmas the day before. I’d open my present when I
woke up and then we’d have a big breakfast with pancakes and
bacon. After that we’d take turns reading the Bible out loud until it
was time to go to the church. We always helped clean it to get ready
for Christmas Day services.” Ten shrugged. “It wasn’t until last year
with you that I had my first real Christmas where I opened presents
on Christmas morning. You were the one who gave me my first
tradition, so I guess it’s fitting you’re doing the same thing for our
baby.” Ten blinked away the tears starting in his eyes.
Ronan reached for a red gummy bear, popping it into his mouth.
“Maybe the Spaniards twelve grape tradition and gingerbread house
construction is a little advanced for our baby. How about if we all
wear matching pajamas and take a family picture in front of the
Christmas tree next year?”
“Then we can tuck her into bed with visions of sugar plums
dancing in her head?” Ten got up from the table to pull his husband
into his arms.
“Yeah, then we’ll head off to have a not-so-silent-night.” Ronan
tipped his husband a wink.
“We could go do that right now, you know…” Ten trailed off,
running his hands under Ronan’s tee shirt.
 Hoisting Ten over his shoulder, Ronan started to sing, “Oh, come,
all ye faithful…”
 

Carson
“Okay, my little velociraptors, where are you?” Carson Craig
called out to his nearly two-year-old triplets. He’d come up with the
Jurassic nickname for his babies when they’d started running away
from him at bedtime as a flock and would suddenly break formation
and take off in three different directions, just like the movie
dinosaurs.
“Seriously, wife? You’re calling our babies that on Christmas
Eve?” Truman Wesley, Carson’s husband asked. Truman was
laughing as he asked the question.
“It’s just another day to them, husband.” Carson rolled his eyes. It
would be a few years before his kids understood the true meaning of
Christmas.
“You are so wrong, but we will discuss this later. I hear the pitter
patter of little feet.” Truman pointed to the door. He smacked a kiss
to Carson’s lips in the meantime.
Carson heard the footsteps too. Six tiny feet were stomping into
the living room from the kitchen where the babies had been coloring
pictures of Santa at the table.
“Da! Da! Da!” Dressed in matching footie pajamas, Brain,
Stephanie, and Bertha ran toward their fathers.
“Okay, everyone, it’s almost time for bed,” Carson cooed. He was
exhausted and there were still toys to build and presents to wrap.
Carson wished he was the one being told it was bedtime.
“Noooo!” all three babies wailed in unison.
“Santa’s coming tonight. You don’t want him to skip our house, do
you?” Carson reasoned.
“Ro?” Baby Bertha asked. She was named for Carson’s
deceased mother. Bertha Craig had been the life force of their small
family, raising Carson and his younger brother, Cole, singlehandedly,
while also running her psychic shop, West Side Magick. The Craig
brothers, along with Tennyson Grimm, now owned and ran the store.
“She thinks Ronan is Santa. How cute!” Truman was snapping
pictures of all three kids while making funny faces at them.
“Just adorable,” Carson grumbled. Baby Bertha thought Ronan
hung the moon. When the babies were smaller, Ronan would bring
Truman lunch and feed the infants by himself so Tru could enjoy his
lunch in piece. Bertha was the fussiest of the lot, but he had a magic
touch with her. That special bond continued, Ronan was still her
favorite.
“Why don’t you grab the Santa cookies and milk so we can get
some snaps and then it’s off to B-E-D. We can have some beers and
get busy putting stuff together.”
Carson started to laugh. “I’m all for having beers with my
handsome husband, but how is that going to help us put things
together. Those instructions are crap to begin with.”
“That’s my point exactly!” Truman laughed. “They get easier to
read when you’ve had a beer or two. That’s probably how those toy
company people write them, buzzed and feeling no pain.”
“Uh, huh,” Carson shook his head and walked into the kitchen.
He heard tiny footsteps behind him. He didn’t need his psychic gift to
know it was Steph. His little girl followed him everywhere. “Okay, let’s
leave cookies for Santa. He’s got a lot of work to do tonight!”
Grabbing the plate, he turned toward his toddler.
Her blue eyes lit up. “Cookies!” Stephanie squealed.
Oh shit… It was in that moment that Carson realized he was in
trouble. More squeals came from the living room, followed by
stomping feet. When it came to food, the velociraptors always stayed
in formation.
“Cookies!” Baby Bertha shouted. Brian echoed his sisters’
shouts.
Truman came into the kitchen behind the happy babies. His
phone was up and he was filming the whole thing. All three babies
were surrounding Carson cheering for cookies. “Looks like you’re in
a bit of a pickle.”
“This was your idea! Putting out cookies for Santa. You know we
were just going to eat them when the velociraptors were in bed!”
Carson started to laugh. The babies were jumping up and down
calling out for him and cookies at the same time. “What do I do? It’s
almost their bed time.” He could feel panic rising up from his toes.
“We can’t give them cookies before bed!”
“Carson Cornelius Craig!” Bertha Craig’s spirit barked from in
front of him. “If you don’t give my grandbabies a cookie, I swear to
God…”
“You swear to God what, Mom?” Carson started to laugh, finally
seeing the ridiculousness of the situation.
“What is Bertha’s verdict?” Truman was laughing along with him.
“She wants me to give them a cookie.” Carson rolled his blue
eyes. “Of course, my mother agrees with you.”
 “Face it. I’m Bertha’s favorite. When Ronan’s not around.”
Truman pressed a kiss to Carson’s temple. “It’s Christmas Eve. One
cookie past their bedtime one night of the year isn’t going to kill them
or give them a mouthful of cavities.”
“Here! Here! I knew you married a smart man, Carson!” Bertha
started to cackle.
Truman had a point. They’d just brush the kids’ teeth with extra
care tonight. “Okay monkeys, go sit in front of the Christmas tree.
Daddy will bring you a cookie and some milk.”
More squeals went up as the babies ran into the living room.
“I’ll grab some milk for everyone.” Truman kissed Carson again.
“Are you sticking around to watch us build toys, Mom?” Carson
loved having his mother around for moments like this.
“Nope! Just like Santa, I have other stops to make.” Bertha
cackled.
“Mom says she has other stops to make,” Carson translated for
Truman.
“Yeah, she’s probably on her way to Ronan’s house.” Truman
shuddered.
“For your information, I’m on my way to see Laurel and Brady.
Although I wonder if there’s time for a quick peek to see if I can catch
Ronan in the shower…” Bertha trailed off, her eyes losing focus.
“Oh, Jesus.” Carson set five cookies on a separate plate when
Truman had sippy cups of milk ready for the kids.
“What?” Truman was already starting to snicker.
“Mom’s got plans to be a peeping Bertha.” Carson’s mother had
an infamous crush on Ronan. Saying Bertha had a crush on Ronan
was like saying Everest was a hill. “Bye, Mom. Don’t do anything I
wouldn’t do.”
“Don’t be so puritanical, Carson. Toodles!” Bertha was gone.
Carson shook his head. “She accused me of being puritanical.
Can you believe that?”
“Yes, but we’ll talk about that later. The kids are being super
patient. I don’t want to press our luck.” Truman grabbed their sippy
cups and headed toward the living room. “Here we go, kiddos!” he
announced.
All three babies were sitting in front of the Christmas tree staring
up at the lights like little angels. Truman set down the drinks so he
could snap some pics. “Merry Christmas, Carson.” Truman kissed
him.
“RO! RO! RO!” All three kids chorused.
Truman burst out laughing.
“No, Santa says Ho! Ho! Ho!” Carson grimaced.
Truman passed out cookies and cups to each of the kids before
sitting down behind them in front of the tree. He motioned for Carson
to join him. “You know what, wife? I think it’s okay for tonight. Ronan
never has to know!”
Carson nodded. ”RO! RO! RO! Merry Christmas!”
 

Kevin
“Well, what do you think?” Kevin Fitzgibbon asked, strutting into
the bedroom wearing his new pair of Christmas boxer shorts
complete with matching Santa hat. The boxers were red satin with a
black waist band. The leg holes were edged with a fluffy white
cotton.
Kevin had spent the last ten minutes looking at himself in the
bathroom mirror. His stomach was still flat and he’d managed to
pluck out the three white chest hairs he’d spied. He looked damn
good for a fifty-year-old man, if he did say so himself.
Jace Lincoln, the Boston Police Captain’s fiancé stared at his
half-naked man. “Hot damn, Fitz.” He was sitting up in bed, after
being promised Kevin would be back with a surprise for him.
Kevin watched with amusement as his lover’s eyes roamed over
him from top to toe. The boxer shorts had had been a gag gift from
Ronan O’Mara at the department Christmas Party two weeks ago.
He’d been so embarrassed by the present that he hadn’t even
shown the underwear and hat to Jace, he’d just shoved them as far
back into the closet as he could reach, forgetting about them, until
tonight at dinner.
He’d taken his man out for a dazzling night on the town. They’d
had caviar and lobster with the finest champagne. The evening had
ended over Irish coffees and a shared crème brulee, with Jace
wondering what other festive plans Kevin had waiting for them at
home.
Kevin hadn’t had any other festive plans, aside from shouting out,
“Oh, Jesus!” toward the end of the naked Olympics he had on tap,
but then he’d remembered the boxers and hat. He figured why not
add in a little, “HO! HO! HO!” while he jingled Jace’s bells.
Kevin shimmied around, turning so that Jace could see his ass.
He wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but damn that satin felt good
against his skin. All of his skin. He was popping wood just from the
way the material was caressing his dick. Well, that, and the way
Jace was licking his lips and staring at his ass.
“Where the hell did you get those? I just can’t see you walking
into a store and asking for the Sexy St. Nick model.” Jace crooked a
finger at him, motioning him toward the foot of the bed. He pushed
the covers forward and stood up on his knees. “I have a surprise for
you to unwrap too.”
Damn… Jace wasn’t naked under the covers. He was wearing a
candy cane striped G-string that was bulging with his erection. The
wet tip was peeking out past the waistband. “I guess great minds
think alike.” Kevin moved to stand at the foot of the bed.
Jace crawled toward Fitz on his hands and knees. His eyes were
on the Santa boxers and the prize they held inside. When he
reached Kevin, he nuzzled his face against the satin. Pulling back,
he licked up Kevin’s shaft, wetting the material.
The silky slide of the satin against his dick combined with the hot
wetness of Jace’s mouth was heaven on his cock. Kevin set a hand
on Jace’s head and let his lover go to town soaking his boxers with
his tongue.
Sliding his hand up through one of the leg openings, Jace fondled
Fitz’s balls.
Unable to take another second of the sweet torture, Kevin took a
step away. “Lay flat on your back with your head at the foot of the
bed.
Jace swiped a hand over his slick lips which twisted into a filthy
grin before he obeyed Kevin.
“And take off that ridiculous nut sack before it chokes your dick.”
Kevin snorted.
 Pushing his ass off the bed with his heels, Jace started to wriggle
the small piece of fabric down his hips.
Kevin had to stop to watch. Jesus, his man was gorgeous. It had
been a long and winding road for the two of them to get to this point
in time, but he wouldn’t change a thing. They were together forever
and celebrating their first Christmas as an engaged couple.
Finally getting the skimpy G-string off his left ankle, Jace chucked
it behind him, like a bride tossing her garter on her wedding day.
Kevin had to duck out of the way or it would have hit him in the face.
Gloriously naked himself, Kevin climbed up on the bed,
positioning his face over Jace’s cock, while dangling his own over his
fiancé’s lips. “Is it okay if this is the only thing I got you for
Christmas?”
Jace chuckled. “It is, but that means that the new Mercedes I got
you is going back to the dealership first thing in the morning.”
Laughing, Kevin descended onto Jace’s dick, slowly lowering his
own into Jace’s waiting mouth. He knew damn well there was no
Mercedes with a big red bow waiting for him. Even with all of Jace’s
money, all Kevin wanted for Christmas was to wake up with Jace
lying in bed with him. That was the God’s honest truth.
Fitzgibbon was startled out of his thoughts when Jace hitched his
hips upward, sending his cock straight to the back of Kevin’s throat.
His obvious signal to stop thinking and start sucking. Grinning
around his prize, Kevin did just that. Bouncing his head all the way
down until Jace’s hair tickled his nose, he pulled back, setting a
steady rhythm.
Meanwhile, Jace was gripping his ass with both hands, pulling
Kevin down and choking himself on his lover. He was giving it all he
had, as if he was going to die if he didn’t get his salty reward in the
next few seconds.
Kevin was willing to oblige him. All through dinner, Jace had been
running a shoeless foot up and down his leg and giving him a look
that said he wanted to run off to the restaurant bathroom for a
quickie. Making matters worse was the slow but steady hand
working his dick during the three-mile ride home. He was ready to
blow any second now and could tell Jace was in a similar state. His
lover was making kitten-like mewls in the back of his throat, urging
him on.
Lashing his tongue harder against Jace’s cock, Kevin was
rewarded with a deep moan from Jace. He felt his dick jerk and got a
mouthful of release. Jace moaned around his own cock before going
right back at it like a champ. Kevin kept swallowing, not wanting to
miss a drop.
Jace’s hands gripped him a bit tighter and before Kevin could
say, “Here Comes Santa Claus,” he was spurting down Jace’s throat.
He could feel Jace’s tongue slow on him as both of them were
focused on themselves, rather than on each other in the moment.
Kevin didn’t mind one bit. When they were finished, he rolled to
the side, staring up at the ceiling, and away from Jace’s feet.
“Damn, Fitz!” Jace laughed, crawling down the bed to rest his
face on Kevin’s chest. “You never said where you got the Santa
boxers.”
Kevin felt his gut tighten. It was an unspoken rule to never talk
about Ronan O’Mara in bed. “You-know-who gave them to me.”
Jace started to laugh. “Seriously? We owe him big! You think
they’d want a boat or a house in the Caribbean?”
 “It was a pair of boxer shorts, Jace. The bastard didn’t cure
cancer.” There was no heat in his words. Kevin knew how much he
owed Ronan and Tennyson, not that either man ever wanted
anything in return for the part they played in helping him and Jace
sort themselves out.
“They’re the reason we’re together,” Jace said as if he’d read
Kevin’s mind.
“We’re bringing the cheesecake to Christmas dinner. That will
have to be enough.” Kevin snorted against Jace’s neck. “Now, are
you in the mood for round two or do you want to talk about him all
night?”
Jace’s eyes sparkled. “Round two! I’ve been a bad boy this year.
How do I get off the naughty list, Santa?”
 

Cole
Cole Craig watched with amusement while his three-year-old
daughter, Laurel, sang Let It Go during the Frozen sing-along at the
end of the DVD. This was always the worst part of his night. Laurel
knew that it was bedtime after Elsa wrapped things up. He hoped
that with tonight being Christmas Eve bedtime wouldn’t go nuclear.
He wasn’t likely to get his wish.
Laurel warbled with the last note, her arms flung wide into the air,
giving the performance all she had.
Clapping like he did every night, Cole was prepared for the battle
to come. He had planned to tell his toddler that Santa was coming
and wouldn’t it be terrible if he had to skip their house because
Laurel was still awake. Or wouldn’t it be awful if Santa had to put her
on his naughty list at the last minute and give her coal instead. He
had no idea how he’d explain the difference between Cole and coal,
especially when Laurel got so wound up that her face turned purple.
“That was the best singing you’ve ever done, cupcake!” Cassie
cooed from the kitchen door. “Are you ready for your secret
mission?”
Laurel nodded so hard that her riot of blond curls flew all over her
face making her look like she was getting a face-hug from an
octopus.
“Okay, well I’m going to give baby brother to Daddy and you
come with me.” Cassie handed Brady off to Cole with a wink.
“Secret mission?” Cole hadn’t heard anything about a secret
mission for Laurel, but since the three-year-old wasn’t screaming the
walls down, he couldn’t care less if she was off to be an interrogator
for the C.I.A.
Cassie pressed a kiss to her husband’s forehead. “You’ll see. We
might even have a treat for you, Daddy.”
Cole liked treats. “Okay. I’m a patient man.” It was true for the
most part. The only thing that had tried his patience of late was
Laurel’s bedtime tantrums. She’d always been such a good baby.
Never gave them a spot of trouble. She’d started sleeping through
the night at four months old, wasn’t a picky eater, didn’t bite other
kids at preschool, and as far as Cole was concerned, the terrible
twos was just a myth.
“Bye, Daddy.” Laurel kissed her father’s cheek, her tiny upturned
nose wrinkled at her baby brother before she skipped off into the
kitchen with her mother.
 Ah. That dirty look from Laurel explained a lot. In all of the years
he’d known his little girl, she rarely frowned. Now, she frowned all the
time at her brother.
Cole looked down at the peacefully sleeping infant in his arms.
Brady Truman Craig. His little man. He’d always wanted to become a
father. His own had been shit. Never there for his family and a con
man to boot, Cole had wanted to prove that he was a worthy man by
having a family of his own.
Now, it was starting to look like Laurel’s jealousy of Brady was
turning her into a tiny harpy. He supposed it was a tale as old as
time. Sibling rivalry.
He was ten years younger than Carson. His own father,
Cornelius, had been kicked out of the house for good shortly after his
birth and Carson had doubled as big brother and father. There hadn’t
been room for a rivalry between them.
“The hell if there wasn’t!” Bertha Craig cackled, suddenly
appearing on the living room sofa.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” Cole laughed. “Always coming in with a
bang.”
“I was content to watch the Christmas lights with you and my
grandson, but then you were off on a tangent about no rivalry
between you and Carson and I had to step in.” Bertha rolled her blue
eyes. The ones Cole and Laurel had inherited from her.
“There was sibling rivalry between me and Carson?” Cole never
remembered anything of the sort.
Bertha sighed. “This is a hell of time to go digging up old bones,
kiddo. You have to remember Carson was so much older than you.
He got stuck watching you after school and making dinners and
doing laundry while I was working. His friends were out playing
sports and doing stupid teenager things. I know you remember it
wasn’t always easy being the son of the town psychic, but now
imagine being your little brother’s keeper and being a bit feminine
too. It wasn’t always easy for him.”
Shit… Cole had never thought about it like that before. Carson
had always been there for him. “I never knew those things.”
“Of course, you didn’t. I didn’t want those things to weigh on you.
He and I talked all the time about the bullying and how he could
combat it. We all got through it the best we could.” Bertha swiped at
tears forming in her eyes. “Look at you boys now, you’re closer than
ever. Both happily married with growing families. You’re business
partners who found a third brother in Tennyson. I’ve never been
prouder of the two of you.”
Cole nodded. It was true. He and Carson had never been closer.
Bringing Tennyson into the business was the best decision they’d
ever made until they’d started working on cases with Ronan. That
brought them more business than ever and had allowed them to
expand the store and bring in Emilyn last year. They were gearing up
now to bring in another psychic. “Life is so good, Mom. It’s just this
thing lately with Laurel. She was so excited about Brady and now
that he’s here…” Cole shook his head. “It’s like she hates him.”
“Laurel had no idea what Brady was. She was two years old. She
had no context for what a baby brother meant to her life, Cole. You
could have told her she was getting flaming dog poop and she would
have been excited because of the tone in your voice. It wasn’t until
Brady got here and she saw how much of your and Cassie’s time
she was losing to the little nugget that she figured out he was the
enemy.”
“Shit, the enemy?” Cole hadn’t thought about it in those terms
either. “What do I do?”
“You need to find ways to show her she’s special. Look at your
morning routines. Mommy abandons her. You hurry to feed her and
get rid of her so you can spend the day with Brady.”
“Wait! That’s not what we’re doing at all! Cass goes to work and
Laurel goes to preschool.” He paused to think about how it looked
from Laurel’s point of view. “Oh, I see what you’re saying.”
“It’s all about her perception.” Bertha reached out to run a finger
down the cheek of her sleeping grandson.
“What do I do?” Cole was really at a loss here. How did he
change Laurel’s perception of their family and her role in it?
“Talk to her more. Help her realize that she’s still your little
princess. Tell her things like how special she is that she can feed
herself and her little brother can’t. Take her on father-daughter trips
to the library and leave the baby with someone else. Make a special
bedtime routine that’s fun. You and Cassie are brilliant people. I’m
sure you’ll figure it out.” Bertha’s hand patted her younger son’s
cheek.
“Thanks, Mom!” Bertha was right, he could figure this out.
“Here we come!” Cassie announced.
“Yup! Here we come!” Laurel parroted.
Cole watched as his daughter marched into the room carrying a
plate of cookies. Cassie had a tray with mugs and a carrot. “What’s
the carrot for?” Cole laughed.
Laurel giggled. “Rudolph!”
 Cole was confused. He looked to Cassie. “The cookies and one
mug of cocoa is for Santa. The carrot is for Rudolph. He works hard
too. Laurel thought he deserved a treat.”
“Wow! That’s smart thinking, sugar plum!” Cole loved the way
Laurel beamed at him. “Who are the rest of the mugs of cocoa for?”
“Us, Daddy!” Laurel jumped up and down making the balls on the
tree jingle.
Looking down at the sleeping baby in his arms, Cole had an idea.
“How about if I put Brady in his crib and we have a Christmas Eve
picnic?”
“Yay!” Laurel cheered.
Cassie looked concerned. Cole would have to explain it to her
later. He could see his mother grinning at him and the look of pure
joy on his little girl’s face was the best Christmas present a father
could ask for.
 

Jude
Jude Byrne could hear some kind of commotion coming from
downstairs. Thankfully, it was of the uproarious laughter sort of
commotion, rather than of the fucking each other senseless sort.
He was spending the night at Ronan and Tennyson’s house in
the spare guest bedroom. He would have been perfectly fine staying
in his own house across town, but the lovebirds and expectant
parents had insisted he stay with them so he wouldn’t have to wake
up alone on Christmas morning.
 He’d woken up alone on every other Christmas morning for the
last twelve years, he didn’t know what difference this one would
make. Jude had seen how important it was to his friends, so he’d
agreed.
It wasn’t like the accommodations sucked. Ten had cooked a
first-class meal earlier with all kinds of Italian dishes. Ronan had
called it The Feast of the Seven Fishes. He was on some kick about
starting a new Christmas Eve tradition for his growing family, and the
Italians had this thing they did where they didn’t eat meat on
Christmas Eve. No one had warned him of that little fact ahead of
time and he’d gotten a nasty shock when he’d eaten a meatball only
to discover mid-chew that it was, in fact, a tuna ball. He’d almost
decided to go home then and there.
The rest of the meal had made up for that little faux-pas. There
had been stuffed calamari, shrimp scampi, balsamic-glazed salmon,
and boiled lobster, along with scallops and fish chowder with
haddock. Tennyson had really knocked the meal out of the park, with
the exception of the fucking tuna balls.
Jude really liked the room he was staying in as well. It was the
perfect combination of Tennyson and Ronan. In the far corner was
Ronan’s old desk with his ancient record player. His mother had
given it to him for his thirteenth birthday. He had an impressive
selection of records to go along with it. He was currently listening to
Synchronicity by The Police. Over the desk was a faded KISS
concert poster.
This was also the room Ten used to meditate. His rug and statue
of Buddha were in the room along with crystals and candles. It
seemed to be such a random mix of items, but somehow or other,
everything worked together. Just like Ten and Ronan.
Gagging at the thought of his almost never seen whimsical self,
Jude rolled his eyes. Relationships were for suckers because all you
ever got from them was sucker punched, right in the fucking gut.
He flopped back on the bed, letting Sting’s voice soothe him for a
minute. If he really thought about it, Ten and Ronan didn’t seem gut-
punched at all. He’d never seen two happier people in his life. Sure,
they’d been through the wringer thanks to the cases they’d worked,
but that only seemed to make their relationship stronger.
Surely not all men were like, him… That dirty bastard who’d
taken everything from him and stomped his heart to pieces in the
process.
Jude had never seen real jealousy in Ronan’s eyes. There had
never been mistrust on Tennyson’s part when Ronan was out
working late and wasn’t answering his phone. Not even after that
time Ronan had called needing a ride from the Salem Police Station.
After the one disastrous relationship Jude had been in, he’d stuck
to one-night stands, threesomes, back-alley blow jobs, and hurried
hand jobs in bathroom stalls at gay clubs. You name it, Jude had
done it and probably more than once. His one caveat was that he did
it all safely and got tested once a month to boot.
He couldn’t help thinking about something ER doc Walker
Harmon said to him a few months back. Walker had been crazy-
stupid in love with his now-husband Hunter Conroy. Men who were
in love like that tended to want everyone around them to be blissfully
in love too, so Jude had taken his words with a grain of salt. Walker
had told him that if he was happy with one-night stands that was fine,
but if he wasn’t, maybe now was the time to make a change.
What the hell did that even mean anyway? Make a change?
What kind of a change? Taper off men like he was quitting smoking?
Only fuck two guys a week instead of four?
Shit, none of this made any sense. What made even less sense
was that he was up here alone thinking about it.
Walker had said something else that had been knocking around
the back of his skull for the better part of four months. He’d said Jude
should give a man longer than a few hours to see if he was worthy of
earning his trust. These men earned Jude’s trust enough for him to
take them home and fuck them. Wasn’t that enough?
He was playing semantics and he knew it. There was nothing in
his bare apartment that revealed anything about him, which he
supposed was a revelation in itself. It was a giant, blinking KEEP
OUT sign rigged with barbed wire and dynamite. If lovers started
asking too many questions, Jude gagged them, fucked them, and
sent them home. No round two. It was as simple as that. The only
difference between him and a rent boy was that there was no money
exchanged at the end of the encounter.
Playing devil’s advocate for a minute, what if he took Walker’s
advice? What if he found a nice man like Ronan did. Like Walker did.
Then what? Could he be a friend to another man? He already proved
he could do that. He had Ronan and Ten and their whole friend
group. He wasn’t fucking any of them…not for lack of trying with a
few of the single ones.
Jude had thought at first that big old crazy group of friends took
him in like a stray dog because Tennyson liked him, but over time,
he’d come to realize the others really liked him too. There were times
when Cole invited him to dinner or to go shoot hoops. Same went for
Fitzgibbon and Truman. Hell, he was going to yoga twice a week
now with those two. If anyone ever told him he’d be going to yoga,
he would have laughed until he pissed his pants, but here he was
going all downward facing dog.
Okay, so he could be friends with men and not fuck them. That
was a good first step. He supposed step two would be trusting a
man. Jude shivered. He had a lot of junk in his trunk and he wasn’t
talking about his ass. For once.
He’d always been a trustworthy man. In his line of work, he had
to be, but he’d never been good at letting the flow of information
swing the other way. He knew so much about Ronan’s train wreck of
a first marriage and the shit Carson and Truman went through on the
cruise ship. He knew more than he cared to know about what went
down the first time around with Kevin and Jace and what Ten’s
childhood had been like back in Kansas. If you asked any of his
friends what they knew about him, Jude figured the best they’d be
able to answer was that he was the horniest motherfucker they’d
ever met and that he came from New Mexico.
Sure, they knew superficial shit like how he liked his burgers
cooked and that Corona was his favorite beer, but beyond that, no
one knew him at all. He was a ghost. A haunted soul. That was just
the way he liked it.
Or was it?
Maybe it was time for a change. Could he do it though? Could
Jude make that kind of a large-scale change?
 The one thing his friends knew, aside from well-done burgers with
pickles and Corona, sans the lime, was that his mother had died in
childbirth. Her last words, according to his father, had been, “My own
son is a fucking Judas…” Somehow or other, the name had stuck.
He’d been christened Judas Byrne.
Sighing, Jude shut his eyes. Memories of his childhood weren’t
exactly soothing, to say the least. His father had been murdered
when he was thirteen and he’d been raised from there by his
paternal grandfather, who’d shortened his name to Jude.
“Are you there, God? It’s me, Judas…” Now there was a start to a
prayer if ever he heard one. Did God even listen to prayers from
people who were named after such a vile traitor? He supposed he’d
find out.
“I’m not even sure how to do this. It’s been a long time. I pray for
people all the time, just never for my own needs. I’ve been pretty
good at taking care of myself and getting by on my wits and charm.
Thanks for those things, by the way.” Jude chuckled. Did God like it
when you chuckled in the middle of a prayer? He supposed he’d find
out the answer to that too.
“I think I’d like to meet someone.” He snorted “Now, I know what
you’re thinking, that I meet more someones than the average man.
That’s true. I surely do meet more than my fair share. I’m thinking
that I’d like to be done with that. Maybe with your help, I could find a
nice man to be friends with at first, none of that insta-love bullshit
you read about in romance novels.” Shit, did God get mad when you
said “bullshit” in the middle of a prayer? Oh, well, this was Jude
unvarnished. God knew who he was inside and out. He knew all the
hairs on his head, right?
 “Anyway, if you could see your way to forgiving my many, many,
many trespasses and bring someone worthy into my life. You know,
someone hot. Not too short. Not ugly. I don’t mean to sound like a
judgmental prick, here, but it’s not gonna work if he’s sweet as pie
but needs a bag over his head to go out in public, you know? Shit, I
sound like an asshole. Just send me a nice man. I’ll figure the rest
out from there. A nice man who won’t stick my heart in a blender and
hit puree. Okay?” Jude swiped at the rogue tear coursing down his
left temple to melt into his dark hair.
“Oh, and say happy birthday to baby Jesus. I know he’s not a
baby anymore, but, well, you know. And, thanks for my friends. Keep
them safe.”
Clearing his throat, Jude sat up, throwing his legs over the side of
the bed. He could still hear Ronan and Tennyson laughing like loons.
Maybe he should go see what the hell was so damn funny. Join the
party. Live a little with those friends he’d just asked God to protect.
 

Greeley

Greeley Fitzgibbon had spent the last two hours baking. There
had been some leftover cookie dough in the refrigerator at West Side
Sweets and he knew when the bakery reopened for business on
December 26th, it would all have to be thrown out. He hated the idea
of food going to waste especially when he knew it could be used to
make people’s holiday a bit more merry and bright.
When the shop had closed for the night at 4pm, Greeley had
asked Cassie Craig for her okay to take the rest of the sweets and
cakes left in the cases. She’d given him her blessing and permission
to take as many boxes as he’d needed. She’d even offered her help
to wrap things up.
Greeley had refused knowing her family was upstairs waiting for
her. He’d put some Post Malone on his phone and had gotten to
work. Now, with the last batch of cookies cooled and boxed up, he
was ready to hit the road.
Thankfully, the city of Salem, Massachusetts didn’t have as large
a homeless community as in Boston or Lowell, but there were still
neighbors who needed assistance. Stopping by the Salem
Commons, Greeley parked the car and grabbed three boxes from
the backseat of the car. On cold nights like this one, the Salem
Police tried to get as many people into shelters as possible, but there
were some hardy souls who refused to go.
“Merry Christmas, Jimmy! Brought you something from the
bakery.” Greeley set a box beside the man wrapped up in a tinfoil
blanket.
“What’s this, charity?” Jimmy grumped. “You know I don’t want no
fucking charity.”
“This isn’t charity, Jimmy. Just leftovers from the bakery.
Chocolate chunk cookies. Cassie made me clean out the pastry
cases. I figured you’d rather have them than that damn raccoon
behind the shop. Fucker’s as big as a bear from eating all the
leftovers. I figure I’m saving him from diabetes by sharing with you.”
“You got some more of those?” a voice asked from Greeley’s left.
“Sure do, Bruce. Got some for you and Cindy.” Greeley handed
him the two other boxes.
 Bruce nodded. “Thanks, man.” He tapped Greeley’s shoulder and
moved back into the shadows.
“Sure thing.” Heading back to the car, Greeley started thinking
about nights like this he’d spent on the streets of Boston. Born to a
drug addicted mother, he’d been placed into the foster care system.
He’d had a pretty good life until he’d come out as gay to his foster
parents when he was fourteen. They promptly kicked him out.
He’d sold his body on the streets of Boston to survive. Never
having finished high school, there were no other jobs he was
qualified to hold. Even if he could have been hired by McDonald’s or
CVS, the wages he would have been paid could never have
supported an apartment and utilities. So, he’d stayed on the streets.
Kept fighting. Kept hooking.
Then there was the night he’d seen an ad on Craigslist from a
sugar daddy looking for a long-term boy. Something in his gut told
him not to answer it. The money was a thousand dollars cash for the
night with more to come on a weekly basis. It was enough to get him
off the streets and enrolled in a GED class. It was enough to make
plans for his future.
What it had been was a waking nightmare starring a serial killer.
Greeley shivered. He’d been lucky that night. He’d escaped with
his life. Turning to drugs to numb the pain and the shame of being
raped, he’d been in a bad way until Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon had
found him, strung out and on the edge. In exchange for the
information he had about the killer, he’d sent Greeley to rehab and
offered to adopt him if he made it through ninety days.
That had been nearly two years ago now. He got through rehab.
Got adopted. Got his GED. Now, he was enrolled at Salem State
University and was attending the police academy. He was following
in the footsteps of his father and his uncle, Cold Case Detective,
Ronan O’Mara.
Feeling tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, he starting
blinking to keep them from falling. So many things had to fall in the
right direction for him to have gotten the breaks that he did in life. If
just one thing had gone a different way, he could have ended up
dead.
Pulling up to the LifeHouse shelter, Greeley shut off the engine.
He ran up to the front door where a handsome young man was
sitting at the front desk. “Hi, Greeley!” the young man waved.
“Hi, Garrett!” Greeley greeted. “I brought a trunkful of goodies for
you.” Garret Jones had been working at the shelter for as long as
Greeley had been a volunteer. They’d become fast friends.
“Wow, man, thanks!” Garrett grabbed his phone, dashing off a
quick message before grabbing his jacket and following Greeley
outside.
Popping the trunk, Greeley grabbed a bunch of the bags. “Why
don’t you grab the cakes.” There were three sheet cakes in the back
of the trunk. All of them had been expertly decorated by Cassie.
They hadn’t been purchased before the store had closed at the end
of the day.
“Maybe we’ll serve these with Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
Garrett carefully gathered them up in his arms.
“We’ll be here around 10am to help with prep work.” Greeley shut
the trunk with his right elbow.
“Who are you bringing?” Garrett sounded curious.
 “Dad and Jace, Cole and Cassie, Jude, Dempsey, and Grandma
Kaye.” Greeley thought there might be others coming too, but didn’t
want to get Garrett’s hopes up for more volunteers. Christmas Day
was the busiest meal LifeHouse served every year. It was also the
day with the least number of volunteers.
“The Dragon Lady? She’s coming to help serve Christmas
dinner?” Garrett laughed.
“In the flesh!” Greeley rolled his eyes. “She’s been staying with
me since she flew in from Kansas City a few days ago. You’ll like her
when you meet her tomorrow.” Kaye had always helped to serve
Christmas dinner at her church back home in Kansas. She was
looking forward to helping out tomorrow.
“I thought you said she wasn’t a fan of the gays?” Garrett raised
an eyebrow.
“She’s gotten better over time.” Greeley grinned at Garrett before
hustling back inside the shelter. It was freezing outside. The
temperature readout in his car had registered twenty-eight degrees
when he’d parked in the lot. He knew it would get colder as the night
went on.
It was nights like this he’d spent at the Tremont Street Mission,
the homeless shelter run by Jace Lincoln. He got a hot meal, usually
his only one for the day, unless one of his customers treated him to a
quick burger and fries before it was time to get down to business.
The shelter also provided a cot with a warm blanket.
Greeley promised himself on nights like these that if he were ever
lucky enough to escape that life, he’d give back. After things had
gone south between his father and Jace last Christmas, he and
Kevin had come here, to LifeHouse to help serve Christmas dinner.
 Tennyson and Ronan had put their Christmas dinner plans on
hold to come help and before Greeley had known what was going
on, the whole gang was there, minus Cassie and Emilyn, who’d
stayed back to watch all of the kids.
Greeley knew Ronan had been casting around for a tradition to
start for his growing family, what he didn’t think the veteran detective
realized was that they’d all started one last year by going to the
shelter. Ten had told him earlier today that they weren’t having
Christmas dinner until 7pm. That would give them plenty of time to
volunteer at the shelter and then get home to prepare the meal.
Before Ronan knew it, his daughter would be following in his
footsteps peeling potatoes and shucking peas on Christmas
morning. Greeley couldn’t wait to see it happen.
“I’m going to put the cakes away, but feel free to put the cookies
out with the coffee. People are still awake and milling around. I think
the kids are getting ready to sing some Christmas carols. It’s a
perfect time for treats.”
Nodding, Greeley headed toward the main room of the shelter.
He took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to see was going
to hit him hard. When he pushed through the double doors the
cacophony of sound reached his ears first. The low hum of a
hundred conversations drifted over to him.
There were kids scattered all over the place. Some were chasing
each other around. Others were sitting around the Christmas tree.
More were gathered around a teenager reading a battered copy of
How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Greeley’s heart pinched in his
chest. At least he didn’t have to spend his single-digit years in a
place like this.
 Clearing his throat, he brought the cookies to the table and
started laying out the boxes.
“Hey, you’re Greeley, right?” a small voice asked from behind
him.
Turning around, Greeley saw a teenage boy nervously wringing
his hands together. “I sure am. What’s your name?”
“I’m Luke. Someone said that you used to be homeless too, but
you were adopted and go to college now.” There was a tiny spark of
hope in the boy’s hazel eyes.
“Why don’t we grab something to eat and we can talk?” He
reached for a napkin and some cookies before making a cup of tea.
Tennyson had introduced him to tea and now he was drinking it over
coffee. He felt a lot less jittery as a result.
Nodding, Luke made himself a cup of something hot and followed
Greeley to a table.
Greeley took a deep breath, trying to decide how much of his
personal story to share. From what Luke had said, part of it was out
already. “I was kicked out of my house as a teenager and had to
make my way on the streets. When I was sixteen, I had a run-in with
a serial killer which I managed to survive. A year later a member of
the Boston Police Department came looking for me hoping I could
help him catch the bastard. After my encounter with this killer, I’d
turned to drugs to dull the pain of what he’d done to me. The cop
offered me rehab and a place to stay if I got clean, which I did. Then
he adopted me.”
Tears glittered in Luke’s eyes. “I was kicked out of my house too.
I told my father I was gay and he totally lost his shit. My mom died a
few years ago and my therapist has been trying to find ways to bring
us closer. She thought me confessing my secret would be the way to
do it. I told her she was wrong, but she talked me into it anyway.”
Luke shrugged his thin shoulder. “I never should have listened.” Luke
bit into one of the cookies.
Greeley couldn’t imagine anything worse that Luke’s situation. He
knew his father wasn’t the type of man to accept him, but an outsider
forced his hand. The social workers he’d dealt with in foster care
were always doing shit like that too, sticking their noses in and trying
to make him tell his foster parents things he knew would make the
situation worse. Sometimes adults had no clue what they were
talking about. “What happened?”
“My dad listened. He nodded along while we were in her office.
Once we got home though, all hell broke loose. He screamed and
yelled and finally told me to get the hell out. That’s what I did, with
just the clothes on my back.”
“What’s your last name, Luke?” This boy’s story broke Greeley’s
heart. Maybe there was something he could do to help the situation.
“Johnson.”
“Do you think maybe your father regrets those harsh words? Your
Dad seemed like he was overwhelmed and flying off the handle, but
maybe once he had the chance to calm down?” Greeley had an
idea. It was a longshot, but it was Christmas and it just might work.
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since that day.” Luke shook
his head. “Hey, you want some more cookies?”
Greeley laughed. He hadn’t eaten any of the ones he’d brought to
the table. “Sure. Oh, and can you ask Garrett about paper plates? I
think he has the bag with the ones I brought from the bakery.”
“Sure thing.” Luke headed off.
 The second he was out of sight, Greeley had his phone in his
hand and was sending off a quick text to his friend, Luca Pennington,
who just happened to be engaged to Salem’s Police Chief.
Luca sent back a quick reply. Now, all that was left to do was
wait.
Life was all about opportunities. Ones that were lost. Ones that
were grabbed with both hands. He couldn’t help but wonder what the
outcome would be here.
Grandma Kaye was home tonight working on some old family
recipe. She’d wanted him to come home after work and bake with
her so that she could hand the tradition down to him. As much as
he’d wanted to do that and hear more stories about her marriage to
David Grimm, Greeley had known there was something else he’d
needed to do instead.
Cookies and cakes might not nourish these people’s bodies, but
they might just give their souls a little boost. Tonight, that was good
enough for Greeley.
The doors opened and Luke walked back through, waving at him
with a stack of paper plates. The kids who’d been listening to The
Grinch screamed, “Cookies!” and charged toward the table. Greeley
watched Luke help them make their selections before he came back
to their table with a plate for them to share. He noticed Luke had
grabbed candy cane cookies. Those had been the first ones Cassie
had taught him to make, which gave him an idea. “You know I work
part time at the bakery, right?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were in college?”
“I am, but Cassie Craig, the owner of the bakery, is a friend of the
family and she just had a baby a few months ago. I know she’s
looking for help. I’ll be going back to school full-time in a few weeks
and she’s going to have to go through the hiring process. Wouldn’t it
be great if you saved her the trouble?”
“Why do you think I want to work at a bakery?” Luke’s eyes
studied Greeley as if he were trying to ferret out Greeley’s ulterior
motive.
Greeley snorted. “Come on, man. I saw the way you were
studying that cookie. I have a friend who is a biology major. He does
the same thing with plants. Like he’s trying to figure out how they
work.”
“I’ve always wanted to go school to be a pastry chef.” Luke
shrugged.
“Cassie is self-taught. Hell, if she can teach me to bake, she can
teach anyone.” Greeley had been a disaster in the beginning. Mixing
up sugar and salt. Forgetting to add chocolate chips to the chocolate
chip cookie dough. He was lucky Cassie loved him so much or he
would have been out on his ear.
“Okay. I’ll go see her the day after Christmas. The bakery is next
door to the psychic shop, right? Maybe that Tennyson Grimm will tell
me I was born under a lucky star or something.”
“Luke!” a deep voice boomed. “Where’s my son? LUKE?”
“Dad?” Luke shot Greeley a shocked look before turning around
to look toward the front door.
Greeley stood up and could see Police Chief, Cisco Jackson
standing in the doorway. He was dressed in his uniform but was
wearing a smile that was a mile wide. “Hey there, Superman.”
“I’m not Superman. I think that title belongs to you.” Cisco
slapped a hand on Greeley’s shoulder. “I came down here just in
case things didn’t go well. Randy Johnson sounded relieved to hear
where his son was, but sometimes you never know.”
Greeley looked at the father and son who were hugging and
crying. He hoped their future would be filled with peace and
understanding. It wouldn’t be an easy road to reconciliation, but
they’d be together as a family. On Christmas that was all that
mattered.
 

Cisco
Salem Police Chief Cisco Jackson was riding high. After reuniting
Randy and Luke Johnson, he’d stuck around at LifeHouse to sing a
couple of Christmas Carols with the kids and he was asked to read
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Cisco had always been involved
in the Salem community, but he seemed to be doing more since he’d
become friends with Tennyson Grimm and Ronan O’Mara.
He would be helping to serve Christmas dinner with the others
tomorrow while Luca slept. Tennyson said their Christmas dinner
would be held at 7pm so everyone would have a chance to
volunteer. He couldn’t help but wonder though if the late hour was so
that Luca could help with the prep work. It started getting dark in
Salem around 4pm which meant Luca could be outside without fear
of getting burned by the sun.
Now that he was on his way home, Cisco’s full attention turned
toward his fiancé. Luca Pennington was the man of his dreams. It
didn’t matter to him that Luca’s sun allergy kept him from going out in
the daytime. They’d been together since June and had managed to
make things work, courtesy of being able to pick his own hours at
work. It was good to be chief.
Pulling into his driveway, Cisco couldn’t help but admiring his
house. It was decorated with a million lights and had one of those
inflatable snowmen in the front yard. Luca’s family back in suburban
Pittsburgh never had the money to decorate for Christmas, so Cisco
decided they’d go all out this year. He thought the blow-up Frosty
was gaudy as hell, but Luca loved it and that was why he’d bought it.
Finally climbing out of the truck, Cisco made his way to the front
door.
“I was wondering how long you were going to sit in the SUV
admiring our house.” Luca was all smiles, framed in the front door.
He was wearing a Santa hat, perched at a jaunty angle on his head.
“You did an amazing job.” Cisco pulled his vampire into his arms,
hugging him tightly.
“It’s easy when your fiancé hands you his credit card.” Luca
laughed when Cisco lifted him up and carried him into the house. He
kicked the door shut with his left boot.
“I was thinking,” Cisco said, pressing Luca back against the
closed front door before kissing his lips off.
“I can feel your train of thought pushing against my stomach.”
Luca’s blue eyes darkened.
“That’s only part of what I was thinking.” Cisco grabbed Luca’s
hand and started dragging him toward the living room. His vampire
was insatiable. He’d quickly learned the biggest challenge in dating
someone nearly half your age was the refractory period. Luca, at
twenty-two years old, was ready to go minutes later, while he, at
thirty-eight, took a bit longer.
 Cisco pulled Luca to a halt in front of the Christmas tree. “I was
thinking we could open presents tonight and then head to bed.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed as if that thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re leaving in the morning to volunteer at the
shelter.”
Cisco nodded. “Ronan and Ten are having a little breakfast for
everyone and then we’re all going over together.”
“I said I’d meet Ten around 4pm to help make Christmas dinner at
their house.” Luca looked thrilled to be invited, even though he’d be
drinking his dinner through a straw.
“I’m glad we found our family.” Cisco held Luca close. “Just don’t
tell Ronan I said that. We didn’t get off on the best foot.”
Luca laughed. “Greeley told me all about that.” He kissed Cisco
again. “So, how about if I play Santa?”
“Well, you’re certainly dressed for it.” Cisco took a seat on the
floor in front of the Christmas tree which was overflowing with
presents, most of which were for their friends. It made him feel like a
kid again, sitting here like this staring up at the tree which was
brightly lit and crowded with glittering ornaments.
“This one.” Luca handed Cisco a brightly wrapped square
package.
Cisco held the box in his hands before giving it a small shake. He
thought it was about the right size to hold that new Polo gift set he’d
seen at Macy’s. He’d been wearing Polo since he was a teenager.
He couldn’t get enough of that shit.
“It’s not going to bite you. That’s my job.” Luca giggled. His phone
was held up filming Cisco.
 Okay, maybe this wasn’t cologne. Why would Luca be taking a
video of that? It was their first Christmas as a couple, so maybe he
wanted to record every moment. Shaking his head, Cisco tore open
the paper to reveal a brown cardboard box with no markings.
“Thanks, babe. Just what I always wanted, a box!” Cisco leaned over
to press a kiss to Luca’s cheek.
“Open the box, Cisco.” Luca deadpanned. “Your present is
inside.”
Cisco snorted. “I knew that.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his utility knife to slit the
packing tape. What the hell else could it be? He had mentioned
wanting a new watch. Maybe Luca had ordered the one he wanted
from Amazon since it was cheaper there than at the jewelry store on
Essex Street. Everything was cheaper on Amazon.
Looking into the box, Cisco pulled out another box. “What the
hell?” This box was also wrapped, but in a different paper from the
first one.
“Well that’s strange.” Luca’s eyes widened in surprise. “Maybe
you should open that box.”
Grinning, Cisco did just that. Instead of finding another wrapped
box inside, there was a box from that jewelry store down on Essex.
Tipping the wrapped box upside down, the white box fell out into his
hand. Opening the lid, Cisco found a white velvet box inside. He
knew instantly it was too small to hold a watch. It held a much
smaller, more intimate piece of jewelry. “Luca?”
The vampire plucked the box out of Cisco’s hand. “Well, your
proposal on the Fourth of July blew me away. I never saw it coming.
Then, a few weeks later, when you surprised me with my ring, it was
such a magical night.” He looked down at the glittering platinum
band on his left hand.
Cisco picked up Luca’s hand, pressing a kiss to the ring before
kissing Luca’s palm.
“I started thinking how could I ever top that?” He opened the ring
box to show Cisco what was inside.
“Oh, Luca…” Cisco couldn’t breathe. He was almost expecting a
band to match the one Luca wore, but this one was completely
different. The ring itself was black. It was absolutely stunning.
Plucking it out of the box, Luca held it up to Cisco. “It’s black ion
plated cobalt,” Luca said with tears shimmering in his eyes. “I chose
this ring because you said to me that you didn’t care if we lived our
lives under the moon or under the sun, you just wanted to live your
life with me. You made the darkness my home, Cisco. This ring
symbolizes the sacrifice you made to share your life with me.”
“It wasn’t a sacrifice, sweetheart. My life is nothing without you by
my side.” Cisco meant every last word.
“Francisco Reyes Jackson, will you be the sun to my moon? The
green grass to my stars? The singing birds to my chirping crickets?
Will you marry me?” Luca slipped the ring on his finger as a lone tear
cascaded down his cheek.
Cisco nodded. He couldn’t believe the thought and planning that
had gone into this moment on Luca’s part. Of course, there was only
one answer. “Yes, Luca!” He pulled his laughing man into his arms.
“Do you think Santa will get mad if he has to skip this house because
we’re going to be awake all night?”
“Nah! I left him beer and store-bought cookies. I’m sure he’ll be
fine.” Luca waggled his eyebrows
 Laughing, Cisco got back to his feet. He held a hand down to
Luca who was still filming. “Best, first Christmas ever. How do you
think we’ll top it next year?”
Luca snuggled against Cisco’s chest. “Hmm, this holiday is
famous for celebrating a baby…”
No one knew better that Cisco Jackson how many kids in Salem
needed a good home. It wouldn’t take much to sneak out of bed later
and print out the foster parent application. There was red ribbon
around here somewhere. Maybe there was time to slip one more
present under the tree for Luca before the clock struck midnight on
Christmas morning.
 

Hunter
Hunter Conroy was alone on Christmas Eve. That wasn’t a
surprise. He usually was. What made this year different was that his
newly minted husband, Emergency Room Doctor, Walker Harmon,
was working tonight. His shift would be over at 11pm. The one thing
Hunter had learned after four months of wedded bliss was that
Walker rarely left the hospital when his shift was over.
It wasn’t possible to walk away from a patient just because a
magic bell tolled a certain hour on the clock. That was one of the
things Hunter loved most about his new husband. He’d also learned
that everyone else on staff in the ER at North Shore Medical Center
was the same way. That was why his truck was stuffed to the gills
with bags of food from Lotus Blossom, his and Walker’s favorite
Chinese food restaurant, along with some other goodies he’d picked
up earlier in the day from West Side Sweets. Hunter had this
surprise planned two weeks in advance.
Now that his curse was reversed and he was a permanent
member of the Salem community, he’d dug in with both feet. He’d
gotten himself on the charity board at the hospital and had been
instrumental in planning the children’s Christmas party which had
been held yesterday. He’d gotten Ronan O’Mara to dress up as
Santa Claus and some of their other friends to dress like
superheroes. Tennyson Grimm had been Spiderman, Jude Byrne
was Thor, and so on.
All of their friends had run fundraisers through their businesses
for the toy drive with Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon’s fiancé, philanthropist
Jace Lincoln coming in big with a donation that still made Hunter’s
head spin. He had a feeling a huge thank you, like an entire wing of
the hospital, was going to be named in Jace’s honor. The kids had a
blast.
Pulling into the parking lot, Hunter gathered all of the bags of
food, along with the cake, and somehow managed to shut the doors
of the truck. It was going to smell like Kung Pao Chicken in there for
the next week. He hurried toward the ER doors. Christ it had to been
in the teens out here tonight.
“Hi, Hunter!” Cindy waved from the intake desk. “What’s all that?”
“A surprise for everyone. Can you buzz me in so I can set it all up
in the lounge?” He was hoping to make it past everyone so that the
secret didn’t get out before the food was set out and ready to eat.
“Sure thing, chicken wing.” Cindy was seventy if she was a day.
She always volunteered to work the holiday shifts so other
colleagues could be home with their families. Walker always talked
about what a sweet soul she was.
Hunter hurried to the doctors’ lounge which was at the far end of
the emergency department. There was no one in there at the
moment, which didn’t surprise him at all. Walker mentioned
Christmas Eve tended to be a bit dicey. There were drunk driving
accidents, kitchen mishaps where people cut themselves trying to
open champagne bottles and sometimes there were suicide
attempts. It was the season for family and sometimes it was difficult
for those who were estranged or recently had a relationship break
up. Then, of course, there were the domestic disputes. Hunter’s
heart had broken when Walker explained just how crazy tonight
could be.
Shaking his head to get rid of those bad thoughts, he set out all
of the Chinese food. Next, he grabbed the bags with all of the heavy-
duty paper plates and plastic utensils. There were also some
decorations he scattered around the tables. Last was the three-tier
cake he’d had Cassie make for him at West Side Sweets. It had a
message of thanks for the entire ER staff and was done in green, red
and silver fondant. Hunter snapped a few pictures to send to Cassie
in the morning.
“Rumor had it my incredibly handsome husband was in here.”
Walker said from behind him.
“Hey! There you are!” Hunter spun around to see his husband
dressed in blue scrubs. His hazel eyes looked tired. He could tell it
had already been a long night.
Walker pulled him into his arms. “Here I am. I am so ready to go
home. Do you think you could smuggle me out in one of those big
bags?”
“I wish I could, which is why I did this for all of you. Everyone
here works so hard. Why don’t you sit and I’ll fix you a plate?” Hunter
hated when his husband looked this worn out. He knew it was an
occupational hazard, but it sucked all the same.
“I’ve got my eye on that cake!” Walker laughed. He didn’t often
eat sweets. “Can I just have that whole top silver tier?”
Hunter laughed. He piled a plate high with shrimp lo mein, white
rice, and two crispy crab ragoons. They were the one deep-fried
treat Walker allowed himself. On his way back to the table he
grabbed plastic utensils. “I can’t believe this is our first Christmas
together.”
“Our first of many,” Walker agreed, kissing Hunter before picking
up his fork.
“What were your Christmases like back in New Mexico?” Of all
the things they’d talked about long into the night, Christmas hadn’t
come up until now.
Walker grinned up at Hunter. “Pretty quiet. It was just the four of
us. My parents, sister, and me. We got a stocking and one big
present, which was usually something to do with education. You
know, a chemistry set or a microscope. Now, I mean the real deal,
not some cheap-ass toy. One year I got a telescope. It was cool.
How about you? What the hell was Christmas like in the fourteenth
century in Wales?”
Hunter felt that old familiar pang of loss. All of his family was long
dead. On their honeymoon to Wales, they’d visited Hunter’s
hometown and the graves of his parents and his sister, Effa. The
grief had been just as raw on that day as the day all of those
centuries ago when she’d been lost to a fever that Walker would be
able to cure so easily today with a bottle of Children’s Tylenol and
some antibiotics. “We made gifts for each other. We sang carols and
lit the Yule log. It was a time to be together and not have to worry
about our work.”
The Conroy family business was demon hunting. It had been that
work which had led to Hunter being cursed into a stone gargoyle by
a centuries-old warlock. It was thanks to Walker and their friends that
the curse had been broken and he was now free to live his life with
the man of his dreams.
“We heard there was a party in here!” a pink scrub-clad nurse
stuck her head around the corner.
“Make a rotation schedule, Whitney, okay? We can’t have
everyone in here at once.” Walker smiled at the nurse.
“I know, you just want a few more minutes alone with that hunky
husband of yours.” She winked at Hunter and disappeared.
“Whitney has a point.” Walker grinned at Hunter. “All I want to do
is throw you over my shoulder like a caveman and take you off to
one of those on-call rooms.”
“Aren’t you always telling me that real life medicine isn’t like
Grey’s Anatomy?” Hunter laughed. He wouldn’t mind a down and
dirty quickie with his husband. Walker was smoking hot in those
scrubs.
Walker shrugged. “When I think about how close I came to losing
you.”
“Hey, now, we said we were done thinking like that, right? Our
future is in our hands now. We’ve got that appointment coming up in
January with our social worker, so we need positive vibes only.”
Walker had said he wanted a child as a wedding present. When
they’d gotten back from Wales, Hunter had gotten to work on that
right away. He’d gotten them on the list to be adoptive parents, filled
out three miles of paperwork in triplicate and jumped through every
hoop the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had asked of them. It all
came down to an interview in the middle of January which would
decide if they were fit to become parents.
“Tennyson said we were all set.” Walker’s hazel eyes glittered
with happiness.
It still amazed Hunter how Walker had become such a firm
believer in Tennyson Grimm and his gifts. One reading with the
medium who’d reunited Walker with his long-dead grandmother and
he’d become the psychic’s biggest fan.
Hunter believed wholeheartedly in Tennyson’s prediction that
they’d become fathers sometime in the next calendar year, but he
still knew he needed to keep a level head and his eyes on the prize.
Ten was also famous for saying the future was fluid. In other words,
shit happens.
The beeper at Walker’s side started wailing. He grabbed it,
frowning as he read. “Accident on the 114 bridge. That’s my cue,
hubby. Gotta run. Don’t wait up. I could be a while.” Walker pecked a
kiss against his husband’s cheek. “Love you.” Walker dashed out the
door.
“Love you, more,” Hunter whispered to the empty room.
He walked over to the bag of stuff Cassie Craig had sent him off
with earlier today. Grabbing one of the treat boxes, he opened it up
and brought it over to the cake. Using the cake servers, he popped
the top tier of the cake off and set it in the box along with two forks.
He wiped the butter cream off the red fondant of the second layer.
There! Now no one would ever know the cake had three layers.
Walker was going to deserve a treat when he got home tonight. It
would be Christmas morning by the time he made it home and he’d
damn well better believe that Hunter would be waiting up for him.
Their first Christmas together was only going to come around once.
Walker wasn’t going to miss a minute with his husband for the world.
 

Niall
The Christmas Eve party was hopping at the Black Cat Inn. Niall
Gallagher was in his element overseeing the food and the ten guests
who were staying at the Inn for Christmas. He was dressed in a
black suit with a crisp white shirt. His red tie was studded with
Christmas trees.
His fiancé, contractor Tobin Woods, had gone for a subtler look.
He was wearing black dress pants and a red sweater. The material
was stretched over his bulky muscles and looked like it didn’t have a
lot of give left in it.
“I’m betting that sweater won’t last the night before it cries,
“Uncle!” and rips up the back,” Mrs. Periwinkle said from Niall’s
elbow. Seventy-five years old if she was a day and barely five feet
tall, she grinned up at Niall like they’d known each other for years.
“What’s the bet, Mrs. P?” Niall loved the saucy widow. In town
visiting her daughter from Ohio, the aptly named Violet was his
favorite guest by far. Every outfit he’d seen the woman wear during
her five-day stay had been a different shade of purple.
 “Oh, just a fun-sized bag of M&Ms.” She giggled. “My Victor was
a big man like your Tobin. Big and strong, but so gentle with me.”
Niall had heard this story fifteen times already. He’d listen to it a
thousand more times so long as Violet was smiling when she told it.
Victor had passed away earlier in the year, just like his own mother.
This was their first combined Christmas without the people they’d
loved the most. “How did the two of you meet?” Niall, of course,
knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the story again.
“I was a first-grade teacher and he was the janitor. One of my
students had lost his lunch in my classroom, poor little lamb.” She
made a face that indicated the situation had been a bit beyond her,
back in the day. “I had to fetch the janitor to clean up the mess.
Victor assured me he would take care of everything. He came to my
classroom with sawdust to sprinkle on the pile and then he opened
all of the windows. He made sure I was out in the hallway when he
cleaned up the sick, so my delicate sensibilities wouldn’t be
offended.”
Niall always laughed at that part of the story. He could picture the
sweet little school teacher standing in the hallway while the burly
janitor saved everyone from the pile of puked up Salisbury steak and
tater tots.
“Later in the day when I brought my class back from the
gymnasium, there was a small vase of wild flowers on my desk with
a handwritten note from Victor asking if he could take me to dinner.
How could I possibly say no to that?” Violet’s green eyes twinkled up
at him.
“I would have said yes too.” Imagine a man bringing you flowers
so you wouldn’t have to smell stale puke for the rest of the day. Niall
sighed. Victor was a true prince among men. This was his favorite
part of the story.
“We were married on the first day of summer vacation. My
bouquet was from that same field of wild flowers that Victor picked
that first batch from. I still have them pressed in our wedding album.”
Violet’s eyes were glassy.
Niall patted her wrinkled hand. “Vi, have you given any thought to
speaking with that friend of mine that I told you about?”
“That Witch City Medium?” Violet’s eyes were back to twinkling
again. She hadn’t been so keen on talking to a psychic when Niall
asked about it a few days ago. “Now if this handsome young fellow
agreed to be my escort, I might just consider it.”
Tobin Woods had joined the small group. “Hello, Miss Violet. How
can I possibly be of assistance?” He bent low over her wrinkled
hand, kissing the top of it.
“Violet was telling me the story about the day she and Victor
met.” Niall’s own eyes twinkled up at his man. He imagined it was
the same look Violet graced her husband with over their fifty years of
marriage.
“Ahh, wildflowers and a handwritten note. I can’t think of anything
more romantic.” Tobin grinned.
Niall could. How about being saved from malevolent spirits and
then being brought to the hospital with a raging concussion? Niall
had ended up living with Tobin after that little encounter with the
spirits of the Salem Witch Trial victims right here at the Inn. They’d
been together ever since.
Tobin had taken care of him like no man ever had. He’d fallen in
love with his husband-to-be at first sight.
 “If you’d like me to take you to visit Tennyson, you say the word. I
know he’d be more than happy to reunite you and Victor.” Tobin’s
blue eyes looked a bit misty. “He was able to do that very thing with
Niall and his mother Betty-Lou.”
“What if he doesn’t miss me, Tobin? What if he’s hooked up with
Marilyn Monroe and he’s forgotten all about me and the life we
shared together?” Violet’s eyes had gone glassy again. Her fears
were real.
“Well that’s just nonsense.” Tobin patted her hand. “No one who’s
known you for more than thirty seconds could possibly forget you.”
“Your man is a real charmer, Niall.” She managed a watery smile.
“He certainly is, Vi.” Niall agreed completely. Tobin was the most
amazing man he’d ever met in his life. He’d jumped in with both feet
to not only renovate the Black Cat Inn, but to also help Niall deal with
the spirits who were haunting the property when he’d first purchased
it.
Now that the Inn was open and running smoothly, Tobin was
ready to start planning their wedding. He’d told Niall he wanted them
to get married more than anything, but knew how important the bed
and breakfast was to him.
Niall had suggested a quickie wedding at city hall, but Tobin had
seen right through him. He’d known that no son of Betty-Lou
Gallagher wanted a quickie wedding in some Justice of the Peace’s
office. They were going to have the wedding of their dreams this
spring. Niall was over the moon.
“You boys hold on to each other. Don’t miss a moment together.
You might think forever is a long ways away, but it isn’t. My time with
Victor went by in a flash. It feels like our wedding was just
yesterday.”
“What was your wedding song, Miss Violet?” Tobin winked at
Niall over her head.
Vi laughed. “You’ll think it’s horribly old fashioned, but it was This
Guy’s in Love with You.” I still love that song to this day. Victor used
to sing it to me at odd moments when the mood struck him.”
“By Herb Alpert?” Niall’s mother loved that song. She used to
spin the 45 constantly when he was a kid. He grabbed his phone and
pulled the song up on YouTube. The sound of the synthesizer filled
the room.
“May I have this dance?” Tobin bowed over Violet’s hand. His
blue eyes sparkled in the low light of the fire.
She nodded shyly as Tobin escorted her to a free space on the
dining room floor. He took her into his arms and they started to
slowly move to the bluesy beat.
Niall pulled up the camera and started recording while Tobin
swayed with Violet. He was blinking back tears watching them dance
together.
He’d watched his mother spend her entire life alone. She’d told
Niall time and time again that having him was all the love she ever
needed in her life. Watching Tobin spin Violet around the dining
room, he knew for a fact that his husband wasn’t all he needed. This
was a big house. The living quarters he’d had Tobin design for them
on the third floor were huge. There was plenty of room for a child or
two and certainly more than enough room for another cat. Not that
Midnight would be pleased to hear that bit of news.
 Betty-Lou’s cat had settled in to his new home well, especially
after he’d chosen Tobin as his person. Niall would swear the cat
loved the bulky contractor as much as he did.
As the song drew to an end, Tobin brought Violet back to Niall.
“I haven’t danced like that in years. Thank you so much, boys. I
think I’ll head up to bed now. Merry Christmas.” She offered each
man a hug.
“Do you want me to walk you to your room, Miss Violet?’ Tobin
asked.
“Goodness, no. You stay here and enjoy Christmas Eve with your
husband. You might be working, but you’re also together.” Violet
waved and headed off toward the stairs.
Tobin reached out for Niall’s hand. “Fifty years is a long time to be
married.”
“It sure is. Sounds like a nice goal to shoot for.” Niall wrapped his
arms around Tobin. He could only hope that their marriage could be
as happy as Victor and Violet’s.
“What happens when we reach fifty years?” Tobin’s teeth worried
his bottom lip. His eyes danced with joy as he teased his husband.
“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to pick another goal, won’t we?
Like helping to raise grandbabies or foster kids or animals.” Niall
laughed when Tobin’s eyes widened.
“I guess that’s what family is all about, right? To carry on after
you’re gone. Vi has her daughter and grandkids here. I’d like that
too. A big old brood of Gallagher-Woods to fill this house with love
and laughter.” Tobin looked like any or all of those three options were
fine with him.
 “It doesn’t matter what we do, Tobin, as long we’re doing it
together.” Niall reached up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his fiancé’s
lips.
“Hey, where did everyone go?” Tobin spun around. “We’re all
alone down here.”
“Guess they saw us swaying together and figured we were about
to get jiggy with it right here in the dining room.” Niall couldn’t help
laughing. The last place he would get down with Tobin was in a
common area of the house. Not that they hadn’t done that before the
Inn was open for business.
“Why don’t we take a page out of everyone else’s book and head
up to bed. Santa won’t stop here if we’re not in bed you know.” Tobin
dropped a line of kisses down Niall’s neck.
“You think Santa’s gonna stop by our house?” Niall shivered
under Tobin’s magic touch.
“You were a very good boy this year, Niall. I’m sure he’s got you
on his nice list.” Tobin laughed against his neck, his breath tickling
Niall’s skin.
“I don’t know, maybe I should shake things up a bit. Why don’t we
head up stairs and I’ll be naughty?” Niall winked at Tobin.
“I like the way you think!” Tobin hoisted Niall over his shoulder
and carried his laughing man up the stairs. Their first Christmas
together was going to start off with a bang. Or two.
 

10

Kaye
 Kaye Grimm was a fruitcake machine. A machine that was
currently taking a break. As she sat at Greeley Fitzgibbon’s kitchen
table, she admired her handywork. There were fruitcakes for as far
as the eye could see.
Before she’d gotten started on this epic adventure yesterday,
she’d made a list of all the friends in Salem she’d wanted to give one
to. It was hard to believe how many people were on the list to start
with. Then, even more unbelievably, Greeley had suggested a few
more. It seemed her son and son-in-law had been making even
more friends while she’d been back in Union Chapel, Kansas trying
to put the pieces of her own shattered life back together.
Staying in Kansas had been her own choice. Tennyson and that
pesky Ronan had asked her to move to Massachusetts often
enough, God knew. She even got a weekly call from that mouthy P.I.,
Jude Byrne. It turned out the boy wasn’t half so brazen when her
son-in-law and all the others weren’t around. There were also the
weekly Skype calls with Carson and Cole’s families. Not to mention
the tons of text messages with pictures. Grandma Kaye, as everyone
had taken to calling her, thanks to Greeley, was really a part of the
family.
“Alexa, play White Christmas.” Kaye sat back and listened to
Bing Crosby croon her favorite Christmas carol. This was her second
Christmas without David. To tell the truth though, this was the first
real Christmas without him.
Last year, she’d still been in shock from the loss. Running on
muscle memory of Christmases past, she’d smile when people
greeted her. Hug them back if they hugged her. She’d even
managed to shop for some presents thanks to Greeley and Amazon.
She didn’t know how she would have made it through last year
without him.
Rubbing her hands over her shoulders, she could see the error in
that statement. Up until October of last year, she never even knew
Greeley Fitzgibbon existed. While her son, on the other hand, she’d
known for thirty-one years.
The one thing she’d learned, the hard way, of course, over the
last fourteen months was that change was hard. She had been so
rooted in her beliefs that it had been difficult at times to find common
ground, even with Greeley. He kept telling her that love was stronger
than any concept taught in a building or in a two-thousand-year-old
book, but there were days, sometimes whole weeks, when she
struggled.
Greeley, bless his persistent heart, loved her all the same. The
calls, texts, and pictures kept coming. He never held anything
against her. Over time, that boy had taught her the meaning of
unconditional love.
It was through that concept she’d been able to find her way back
to Tennyson. Her little boy had always been the light of her life. He
had this smile that lit up a room and an infectious giggle that always
made her laugh along with him.
Then, slowly over time, things started to change. That giggle
stayed high pitched. His stories stayed on the flamboyant side. Her
little boy hated playing football. He wanted to be a cheerleader
instead. There were other changes too. More subtle ones. Kaye
would notice times when Tennyson would be telling a story and he
would stop short and look to his left almost as if someone were
standing there.
 She realized now, of course, that someone was, a spirit or
something was probably asking him for help. Those kinds of things
started to dim the bright light in her son and she’d been glad. It made
Kaye cringe to think about it now, but she’d been happy to see the
sparkle fade. She’d hoped that his little phase was over and he could
get down to the business of being a man.
That had been another thing Greeley had gone over with her a
million times, it seemed. The idea of gender roles. A man was still a
man even if he was a nurse or a ballerina or gay. It worked on the flip
side too. A girl was still a girl even if she was a construction worker
or a soldier or gay. Lord have mercy, she still messed up with that
one from time to time, but she firmly believed that Humpty Dumpty
wasn’t rebuilt in a day. She didn’t have all the king’s horses and all
the king’s men trying to rebuild her. It was a solo act. Well, a duo,
technically, if she counted the “carpenter” upstairs.
Greeley talked a lot about Jesus. He preached over and over
again that God didn’t make mistakes and that He loved Greeley just
the way he was. Then, he’d play Lady Gaga’s Born This Way. It took
Kaye a while to catch on, but she did. Eventually. She even liked the
song.
Now, here she was, sitting in Greeley’s kitchen surrounded by a
literal ton of fruitcake and its raw ingredients.
“Grandma Kaye?” Greeley’s voice shouted from the front door.
“Kitchen!” Greeley had been off to run an errand of some sort and
said he’d be back later to learn the recipe with her, but she’d had her
doubts about that. What young man wanted to learn how to make
fruitcake, the most reviled holiday dessert in history, with an old lady
when you could be out with your friends?
 “Hey! You got a lot done without me!” Greeley hugged Kaye in
her chair. “It smells so good in here. I bet this is what Santa’s house
smells like in the North Pole.”
Kaye laughed. “You think his house smells like fruitcake, not
gingerbread?”
Greeley turned the water on in the kitchen sink to wash his
hands. “Nope! That’s what the toy workshop smells like.” He grabbed
a towel to dry his hands. “I’m all ready to start.”
“What was your errand after work tonight?” Kaye watched
carefully as Greeley blushed.
“There was a lot of food left at West Side Sweets so I brought it
around to the homeless in Salem who didn’t go to shelters and then
dropped the rest off at LifeHouse. I met a young man there who’s
father kicked him out of the house when he came out. We talked for
a bit and then when he left the table for a bit, I texted my friend Luca
about him.”
“He’s the young man who goes around with the police chief?”
Greeley had made so many new friends over the last year it was
hard to keep them all straight.
Greeley laughed. “That’s such an old-fashioned saying, Grandma
Kaye. They’re engaged. Luca called Cisco, who called the boy’s
father. It turned out he’d been frantic to find his son. They reunited at
the shelter and went home together.”
“Words matter,” Kaye mumbled under her breath.
“What did you say?” Greeley’s eyes were bulging out of his head.
“All of these young kids today with those signs that say, ‘Words
Matter.’ They’re right. All those years ago when Tennyson told us
about his situation, all I could do was quote scripture and then stand
by silently when David told him he was no longer a part of our family.
I treated my child like a ghost in his own home because my husband
and some damn book told me too.” Kaye could feel her emotions
trying to get the best of her.
“That’s all in the past now. Tennyson forgives you and you’re
going to be a grandmother in a few months.”
Kaye frowned at Greeley. “I’m a grandmother now. Bertha Craig
says so. Carson and Cole say so. You say so.” Her frown quickly
morphed into a smile. Within the first few days of knowing her,
Greeley had started calling her Grandma Kaye. The name stuck.
“You sure are!” Greeley looked around his kitchen. “So, explain
the history of this recipe to me.”
“My great-grandmother brought it with her from Germany when
she came to this country as a little girl. She was only twelve when
she came here with an aunt. Her mother was supposed to follow on
another ship.” Kaye felt her emotions creeping up on her again. She
should have known Greeley was going to ask this question. She
should have been prepared for it.
“But that didn’t happen,” Greeley said softly, taking Kaye’s hand.
“No. She died from influenza. My great-grandfather did too.” Kaye
sniffled. “All she had left of the old country and of her mother was the
recipe. Her aunt insisted she make it every year. And that’s what the
women of my family did every year with the exception of last year.”
Kaye felt the tears closing in now. They were inevitable.
“I’ve had this for a year now, Grandma. I was waiting for the right
time to show you.” Greeley turned his phone around to show a
picture on his phone.
 “Is that Shelly Brinkman?” Kaye took the phone from him and
made the photo bigger so she could see what was going on. “She’s
surrounded by fruitcakes. What is this?”
“She made them for you last year because she knew you
wouldn’t be able to, what with your situation with David and your trip
out east to see us. She called me to ask if I thought you’d mind if she
carried on the tradition for you.”
Kaye’s mouth hung open. Shelly had been her best friend when
Tennyson was growing up. That friendship had turned bitter over the
years after Shelly called Kaye out for disowning her son. If Kaye had
known about this kind gesture last year, she likely would have flown
off the handle. Greeley had done well to keep if from her. “Thank
you, Greeley.”
“You’re welcome. There’s just one thing you need to promise me
in return.” His smile lit up the room just like Tennyson’s used to do.
Anything. She’d promise Greeley anything in return for knowing
her tradition was still intact. “Name it and it’s yours.”
“A few minutes ago, you said the women of your family had been
making this fruitcake. Next year, I want you to teach Tennyson so he
can pass it down to Everly. Deal?”
Kaye nodded. “Deal.” She hugged the teenager close. “You
know, everyone hates fruitcake. Do you think any of Tennyson and
Ronan’s friends will like it?”
Greeley laughed. “My money’s on Jude. That guy eats
everything.”
“Alexa! Play White Christmas!” Kaye laughed. She was ready to
teach her grandson the prized family recipe.
 
 11

Emilyn
Emilyn Cassidy was standing in Everly Erin’s bedroom. Actually,
it was going to be her room for the night. With Jude spending the
night in the spare bedroom, she’d agreed to stay in the baby’s room.
Em didn’t mind one bit.
Painted a pale pink, dubbed simply Bermuda Dream, by the
company who manufactured it, they’d all agreed it was the perfect
color for Ronan and Tennyson’s little miss. All that was in the room at
the moment aside from the blow-up mattress, Em, and her little jelly
bean, was the still boxed crib and a petal pink dress Inez Salazar
had given Tennyson when the happy news had been announced.
She guessed Everly wasn’t such a jelly bean anymore. The baby
was due in a mere six weeks. That didn’t give the boys much time to
get this room into shape. Everly started kicking up a storm. Em set a
hand on her belly. “I know, sweetheart. Your Daddies are going to
have a party in a few weeks to celebrate us both. Yes, Uncle Truman
should be the one to build your crib. I’ll mention that.” Em laughed,
taking a seat on the carpet, resting her aching back against the pink
wall.
If memory served, it had been Truman who’d built the cribs for his
own babies and for Cole and Cassie as well. Every friend group had
that one man in it who was the responsible builder. Ronan was the
one who saved your ass if you were stuck somewhere in the middle
of the night, but Truman was the one you called if you needed a
sturdy bookcase or a crib.
 “It sounds like you could use a little company if you’re talking to
yourself about which of my son’s friends is the builder of the group.”
Erin O’Mara’s laughter filled the room.
“Hello, Grammy.” Emilyn smiled at the spirit of Everly’s
grandmother.
“Merry Christmas, my two loves.” Erin sat next to Emilyn, placing
her hand on the baby bump. “She’s kicking to beat the band tonight,
isn’t she?”
“It’s tight quarters in there.” Em groaned with a smile. She
wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. Being pregnant was the
joy of her life.
“I remember feeling like that when I was expecting Ronan. Happy
as a clam, but ready for it to be over.”
“What was he like as a little boy? All I see is this tough as nails
man with a heart of gold. I can’t imagine him as a child.” Em couldn’t
help but wonder sometimes how much of Ronan this little girl would
inherit.
Erin laughed. “He was precious. With those big blue eyes. When
he was three, things were really tight. All I could afford was this
stuffed dog he’d seen at some department store. There were other
little things my parents bought him, like action figures and Legos, but
all there was under the tree from me was this dog, a dalmatian like in
the Disney movie. He ripped the paper off and lost his little mind.
‘Doggie, Mama! Doggie!’ he kept yelling over and over. He cuddled
that dog to his chest and just wouldn’t let go. I swear I didn’t sleep a
wink all Christmas Eve because I was so scared that the damn dog
wasn’t enough for him. That I’d failed him as a mother, but there he
was screeching over that stuffed dog like it was the best present
ever.”
Emilyn had tears sparkling in her eyes. “That’s such a sweet
story.”
Erin laughed. “What wasn’t so sweet was that he still had that
damn dog into his twenties. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if it’s in this
house somewhere.”
Emilyn knew for a fact that it was. She could see it in a box in
Ronan’s closet. Tennyson had never seen it either.
“Can I ask you a question?” Erin’s tone was careful.
“Anything.” Em knew what was coming. Not just because she
was a psychic, but because this was Everly’s grandmother asking.
“What made you decide you wanted to do this?”
By this, Erin meant carrying a baby for a gay couple. Em turned a
bright smile toward Erin. “I’ve had visions of Everly for a long time
now. This little redheaded pixie girl who twirls like a ballerina through
my garden. I knew all along she was mine, but not mine. Which
never made any sense to me. I knew eventually the answer to the
riddle would come to me and it did.”
“How?” Erin sounded enchanted by the story.
“A friend of my mother back home. She had a daughter who
could get pregnant but couldn’t stay pregnant and needed a
surrogate to have a baby of her own. After the little boy was born,
Mom sent me pictures. That’s when I knew what I was meant to do. I
signed up with an agency in town and waited for Ronan to find me.”
“You waited for Ronan?”
“I didn’t know it was him exactly. I just knew that the other
couples requesting my services were wrong. If that makes sense?”
Emilyn had used her gift and gut instinct to navigate the process.
When Tennyson and Ronan’s application arrived in her email inbox,
she knew she’d found the right couple.
Erin nodded. “Its all part of your gift. Is Everly going to get that
from you?”
“She is. Although I’m not sure what parts exactly. She’ll be able to
read auras. All the women in my family have that ability, but she’s
going to be special beyond that, thanks to you and Ronan.”
“Ronan?” Erin looked stunned.
“Not all gifts are the types that allow people to read minds and
bend forks in half. Thanks to the way you raised your son, Ronan
has some amazing qualities that he’s going to pass down to this
child that will make her extraordinary. She will brim with empathy and
love. It will pour from her like an overflowing bathtub.”
“My gun-toting son will raise a child overflowing with love.” Erin
chuckled.
“Were you here earlier when he was losing his fool mind over
family traditions?” Em’s giggle filled the room.
“I was laughing my ass off. That boy had more glitter on him than
an entire flock of strippers.”
Emilyn burst out laughing. “I know. He’ll never get it off. I’m
betting he’ll still be sparkling on New Year’s Eve.” She took a deep
breath. “Ronan might not be a champion crafter, but he’s already a
champion father. He was test-driving Christmas Eve traditions so
he’d have one in place for Everly’s first Christmas next year. Who
does that?”
“My son.” Erin offered a watery smile.
 “Hey, Em! I heard voices up here and…” Tennyson stuck his
head around the corner of the baby’s room. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, Ten.” Erin waved at her son-in-law.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Ronan made hot apple cider and it
didn’t kill me or Jude, so I figured I’d invite you down for some and
the cookies he made.”
“My son made cookies?” Erin’s mouth fell open.
“I helped. They were the M&M kind. He was pretty insistent we
make them. He actually went out with Jude to find a bag of red and
green M&Ms. I was starting to worry if he needed to be sedated.”
Tennyson looked a bit more relieved.
“We made them when he was a kid. Those were the cookies he
left out for Santa. Is there a carrot in the mix too?” Erin started to
laugh again, holding her hand over her mouth.
“A carrot? In the cookies?” Emilyn felt her stomach turn. She was
all for cookies, but not if there were carrots in them. There was a
time and a place for veggies and inside cookies wasn’t it.
“No, bunny.” Erin set a hand on Em’s. “When he was a boy,
Ronan would leave out a carrot for the reindeer. I’d just slip it back
into the fridge when he went to bed and gobble up the cookies along
with a cup of hot chocolate.”
“Count me in.” She held up her arms. “Ten, could you help me off
the floor?”
Tennyson did just that before turning back to Erin. “Mom, why is
Ronan so bent on traditions tonight?”
“I always used to tell him family was everything. He got a chance
to see I was right after I was gone and he didn’t have a family
anymore. He did the best he could making his own family, but it
wasn’t until he met you, Tennyson, that he truly had a home and a
real family again. He’s making sure that he’ll always be a part of this
family for generations to come.”
“Now I have to have all of those cookies, so Ronan can tell my
jelly bean she ate his cookies when she was in my belly.” Em
laughed. Hearing these stories about Ronan tonight made her love
him more. “Are you coming with us, Erin?”
“In a minute.” She set a hand on the box holding Everly’s crib.
“Have Ronan set a place for me at the table.”
Emilyn turned toward the door so Erin wouldn’t see her tears.
Everly’s grandmother was right. Christmas was all about family. The
ones who sat at the table with you in body and in spirit.
 

12

Dempsey
Dempsey McMillan was exhausted. Spell work took a lot out of
him. He wasn’t casting them, but trying to unwork them, as it were.
Magick was a tricky thing. There was most definitely a light and a
dark side to it. Unless you worked with a witch or true wizard, like
himself, who really knew what they were doing, you could find
yourself in a heap of trouble in short order. Spell casting wasn’t for
amateurs.
Take tonight’s client, Kate Roberts. Pretty name. Pretty girl. From
the middle of nowhere West Virginia. Kate was a college senior
making excellent grades and had been fielding offers from the top
design firms in New York and Miami until she’d met Matt Dever.
 Matt was an electrical engineering major. Normal, every day sort
of a kid. From a good family and already had a job waiting for him
after graduation. The kid was going places. He’d manage his own
business by the time he was thirty.
That was cheating, Dempsey chuckled to himself. Using his own
gifts to see into Matt’s future like that, but it was part and parcel of
his job. He always gathered all the pieces to the puzzle before he
began to work for any client. It was good business practice. He
needed to know what Matt’s original trajectory had been before
Kate’s spell set things on a different course.
All of Kate’s friends had boyfriends. One was even engaged and
planning a summer wedding at a winery. To say that Kate was
jealous was an understatement. She was greener than a newly
planted hayfield after a week of rain.
What Kate, of course, could never have known was that her
forever love was waiting for her in Miami. Yup, all she had to do was
slow her role, finish school, and take the job in the Sunshine State.
She would have met him in the elevator of her apartment building the
second week she lived there. He would have offered to help her
carry in her heavy load of groceries. The rest, as they say, would
have been history, with successful careers, gap-toothed kids, and
sun-splashed vacations to Costa Rica.
Now, what she had was a lovesick Matt stalking the fuck out of
her thanks to a love spell gone so wrong, the object of Kate’s
affection could end up in jail. Two lives ruined faster than it took Kate
to say the words of the incantation in the first place.
Dempsey sighed. He could barely keep his eyes open and it was
no where close to midnight. It was definitely time for more coffee. He
got up from his desk and made his way toward the kitchen.
He couldn’t thank Hunter Conroy enough for letting him move into
his old house. It was always hard moving to a new town. Finding a
place to stay was always the hardest. The worst part was always
crashing on a friend’s couch while he found his new digs. This house
had been ideal. It came fully furnished. Hell, Hunter had even left all
the non-perishable food and spices for him in the kitchen. The former
demon hunter was now happily married to Walker Harmon and living
in the ER doc’s house.
It seemed like most of the friend group he’d fallen into here in
Salem was already coupled up, with the notable exception of Jude
Byrne. He’d seen through the use of his gift that Jude wasn’t a road
he wanted to travel. They were going to be good friends and
business associates, that was for sure. His gift showed him heaps of
money, but Dempsey’s lips weren’t going anywhere close to Jude’s
trouser region.
On this night, more than any other of the year, Dempsey could
understand why people would turn to the internet in search of love.
All of his friends had plans with their families. Even Jude “The
Walking Dick” Byrne was spending the night at Ronan and
Tennyson’s so he wouldn’t have to be alone on Christmas Eve. Not
that he was in any danger of taking a bath with razor blades or
anything similar, but Jude was the kind of man who didn’t do well on
his own. Dempsey, on the other hand, was used to it.
Freaks got used to their own company quickly. Kids didn’t want
playmates who could light things on fire with their minds or other
such similar parlor tricks. Thought-arson as a parlor trick. That made
Dempsey laugh out loud. He’d discovered that little talent when he
was seven-years-old.
Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, he set the single-cup coffee
machine to brew. Even this little gizmo was meant for single people.
What the hell use did he have for a six-cup coffee pot? That was
something for a couple or a single guy with a shitload of constantly
visiting friends. Dempsey shook his head. Envy didn’t become him.
He’d picked up random lovers over his life, but they’d never been
the type of men who’d be able to understand that being a wizard
meant more than laughing along with Harry Potter jokes and the
continual asking of when he was going to get a real job.
This little gig he’d picked up from Kate Roberts was bringing in
two grand for a few hours work. He had a stack of emails in his inbox
from similarly affected people just like her. Too stupid to have
thought three steps ahead in her plan for love, and flush with enough
of Daddy’s money to pay him to make her little love spell moot.
What Kate hadn’t realized when she typed “Love Spells” into
Google was that you never knew what you were getting online. It
was like going to the supermarket and looking at the beef case.
There was a big difference between the Wagyu beef at $50.00 per
pound and the ground beef priced at $3.99. Not to mention
everything else available in between. Unless you knew what cut your
recipe called for you’d have no clue what to purchase.
Spells worked much the same way. Did you want something to
catch a potential lover’s eye? A spell to put a current relationship
back on track? A true love at any cost spell? A spell that opens your
heart to receive any and all types of love? The possibilities were
endless. Unless you went to someone trained in spell work, you
didn’t know what results you were going to get.
There were also different levels of skill involved. A first-time chef
might want to stick with pot roast rather than prime rib for example.
You could get into worse trouble if you weren’t skilled enough to
handle the magick you were trying to invoke. Dempsey always
pictured a child trying to wrangle a firehouse and flying through the
air, holding on for dear life.
Then there was the problem magick being mislabeled. Not such a
bad thing if you buy meat labeled ground chuck and it turns out to be
prime rib, but how about if you’re looking for a spell that attracts Mr.
Right and instead it makes Mr. Wrong fall hopelessly in love with you
to the point he’s now a stalker?
As Dempsey had researched Kate’s situation, it had been easy to
see where she’d gone wrong. She’d been a girl desperate to fit in
with her friends. Matt had been a cute boy that Kate had wanted to
date so that she’d have someone in her life just like her sorority
sisters. What she got, thanks to the spell she cast, was a disaster
that was on the verge of ruining two lives.
Quickly adding cream and a heap of sugar into his coffee, he
carried it back to his desk. All that was left to do was sever the ties
the spell had created between Kate and Matt and then try to set their
life paths back on their original courses. It would be a lot easier with
Kate, but Dempsey was going to send along a set of strongly worded
instructions for Kate to follow on how she was going to handle things
with Matt going forward. She was the one responsible for putting his
life and freedom at risk. She would be the one to fix it.
 Shutting his eyes, Dempsey took several deep, cleansing
breaths. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the threads tying Kate to Matt.
He began snipping them, one at a time, severing the ties Kate’s spell
wove between them. All the while beginning to chant, “Dragon brave
and Dragon wise, let nothing escape your eyes. I summon you from
your hidden lair, Kate is entrusted to your care. Permit no harm to
come to Kate within your sight, in your presence let all evils take
flight.” Again, and again Dempsey chanted these words as he cut all
of the ties holding her to him.
The next part was a bit trickier. Since it was Kate, who in essence
cursed Matt, setting him free from her would take a bit more work.
Dempsey centered himself again, making sure his breathing was
deep and even. He visualized Matt from the picture Kate had sent to
him. “What is dark be filled with light, remove this spell from my
sight.”
Dempsey concentrated again on snipping the threads that
connected Matt to Kate. He could feel their connection fraying with
every thread he cut until at last Matt was free. The fingers of his right
hand glanced over the softball-sized obsidian crystal ball sitting to
his right.
Clouds began to swirl within its depths until a picture came into
focus. He could see Matt furiously pacing in front of his bedroom
window at home in upstate New York. Snow was falling heavily
outside.
Dempsey could feel the obsession within the boy. He needed to
get out of the house, get into his truck and get the fuck back to West
Virginia. If he left now and drove like a bat out of hell, he could be to
Kate’s house by dawn. He could tell her that he loved her again. This
would be the time she listened for sure. He would make her listen.
Turning around, Dempsey could see a handgun on Matt’s bed.
Christ, he was cutting all ties not a moment too soon. He kept
chanting, knowing that Matt would begin to feel some relief soon.
Dempsey watched as the boy’s frantic pacing began to slow. “That’s
it, Matt. You’re doing great.”
It took a few more minutes before he stopped moving all together.
Dempsey held his breath when Matt turned and saw the gun sitting
on his mattress. Shaking his head as if he had no idea how the
weapon had gotten there, he picked it up as if it were a venomous
snake, holding it out two feet in front of him. Walking quickly, he
brought it back to his parents’ room. Dempsey watched closely as he
slipped it back into his father’s nightstand drawer.
Thank the goddess… “Repeat after me, Matt, ‘With these words I
banish my feelings for Kate Roberts forever. With these words I
banish my feelings for Kate Roberts forever…’” Dempsey kept
saying the sentence again and again. Soon, Matt was saying the
words along with him.
Knowing how hard it would be for Matt to get over all of the things
he’d done while he’d been under the power of the love spell,
Dempsey added in a soothing spell of his own, “Let the powers of
the universe open my mind, let them travel to my memories of a
harsher time. This event will no longer be the anchor attached to my
life, nor the pain similar to which is caused by a knife. Acceptance is
in my soul and let forgiveness take its toll. By the power of three
times three, so mote it be.”
“I give you my peace, Matt,” Dempsey whispered before swiping
his hand over the crystal ball. In a matter of seconds, the ball was
back to its old self again.
Dempsey spent a few minutes typing up his email instructions to
Kate. He sent them off before he could rethink his harsh words.
Today’s teenagers had to learn that everything in this life wasn’t of
the instant gratification sort. Words had consequences. Words
mattered.
Grabbing his cup of coffee, Dempsey moved into the living room.
“Harry, where are you?” He heard a mewl from somewhere close by.
Seconds later, a tabby kitten was trying to scale his pant leg.
Plucking the cat off his jeans, Dempsey laughed at the tiny thing.
“Well, well, Mr. Potter, what have you been up to?” Dempsey rubbed
his face against the kitten’s fur.
He’d found the fuzzball in the garage a few days ago on the
winter solstice. Tired and cold, he’d been quick to bring it into the
house and warm it up. A search for siblings and the mother had
turned up nothing. Dempsey figured the kitten had been a sign from
the universe that he was meant to stay in Salem and make a life for
himself. He’d named the cat Harry Potter as a joke. The cat didn’t
seem to mind.
“Merry Christmas, Harry!” Dempsey scratched its tiny ears.
The cat gave a soft meow and made himself at home on
Dempsey’s chest.
Reaching for the remote control, Dempsey couldn’t help feeling
like he’d found a real home here in the Witch City. A place where he
could put down roots and spend a lifetime. Hell, he already had a
cat.
 
 13

Bertha
Bertha Craig was feeling a bit like Ebenezer Scrooge. Not in the
way that she was a selfish old miser, but more along the lines that
she getting to see what Christmas was like without her. In essence,
she was The Ghost of Christmas Future. This joke didn’t make her
cackle.
Nine times out of ten, she found ways to chuckle about being
dead. This was the tenth time. Christmas did that to her.
In the grand scheme of things, being dead wasn’t all that bad.
The pain and agony of the breast cancer was gone. She had a full
head of hair again and her original assets were back and in pre-baby
shape, no droop and not a stretch mark in sight. Thank you, Jesus.
All of her original psychic powers had followed her to the other side
and somehow or other, her boys had come into gifts of their own.
That had been the worst part about dying, knowing that she’d
have to wait until Carson and Cole joined her on the other side for
her to be able to talk to them again. It had been a jolt out of the blue
the night Carson had his first real vision right here in her old reading
room.
She ran her hand over her old crystal ball. It had been a gag. A
prop she’d picked up at some old magic shop downtown. Bertha
figured if she was going to open a psychic shop in the Witch City,
she was going to have to play the part. She draped the table in the
most exotic looking cloth she could find and plopped the glass ball
down on a pedestal in the middle of it. She’d made a habit of
touching the damn thing a time or three over the course of each
reading. Her client’s eyes would go wide each time she did it.
Bertha remembered feeling like she was dying a bit inside each
time that old parlor trick worked, but one of her spirit guides had
reminded her that her gift was true. Who cared if it took a little razzle-
dazzle to get clients to believe in her words? Once word got out that
Bertha Craig was the real deal, her calendar had been booked solid
until the month before she’d died.
Touching the ball one last time, she closed her eyes and found
herself in the room shared by Stephanie, Brian, and her namesake,
Baby Bertha. She loved these little ones more than anything, but
being a Mimi from the other side sucked donkey balls.
It was really Truman who got everything started. Bertha wouldn’t
be a grandmother at all if it weren’t for him. The son-in-law that she
loved every bit as much as if she’d given birth to him herself.
Carson had been in free-fall after her death. He’d been conning
people at the Magick shop to make ends meet, using his people-
watching skills to read them and passing that off as having inherited
Bertha’s talents. The only reputable thing he was doing at the time
was making sure Cole stayed in college. It wasn’t until Carson had
that first vision. His vision of love, that his life started coming into
focus.
He and Cole had both been convinced that she was the one
who’d sent the vision to Carson, but Bertha was innocent. No one
had been more surprised than she was to see her son stuck in the
vision watching this green-eyed man being held at gunpoint. Bertha
hadn’t even known how the story would play out. She’d never been
good at reading her kids.
 These beautiful grandbabies were another story. She could read
their futures like a book. Stephanie and Brian would have a touch of
her gifts, but little Bertha was going to blow their socks off. When she
hooked up with Tennyson’s little one and someone she still wasn’t
getting a full picture of yet, oh Mama! Were they going to be a
powerful triad. As soon as they were out of diapers.
“Meeeeee!” Baby Bertha squealed.
“Hello there, precious.” Bertha stepped up to the baby’s crib,
reaching out to touch her hands. She could sometimes make herself
solid enough for people to feel her touch. She occasionally did it for
Ronan and her sons when they needed her most. It was her
grandchildren that she saved her powers for the most. She would
never get the chance to hold them until they joined her on the other
side and she was praying that was a century away.
“Meeee! Meeee!” Bertha squealed again.
Mimi was the grandmother name she’d chosen when Carson and
Cole were little. She’d been over the moon when Cole announced
that’s what Bertha would be to Laurel. That was back before either of
her sons had come in to their powers.
She felt blessed in that Laurel was going to get a piece of her gift
as well, but as far as things were going, it didn’t look like her baby
brother would be as lucky. It was still early days though and the
future was fluid.
“Hey, Mom,” Carson whispered from the door. “Twice in one
night. You okay?”
There was no sense in lying to Carson. He wouldn’t hesitate to
throw the bullshit flag. “Christmas is hard. You know that. Now this
year with Emilyn being pregnant and we’ve got Luca and Cisco and
Hunter and Walker and Dempsey. Our family is getting bigger and…”
“And you’re on the outside looking in, right?” Carson scooped
baby Bertha out of her crib, pressing a kiss to her downy head. The
baby wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Yeah. You know I try to keep a positive spin on things, but
sometimes being dead sucks.” The last thing Bertha wanted to be
was a wet blanket on Christmas, but she knew Carson understood.
Carson snorted. “You’ve always had a way with words, Mom.”
“I wish I could be here tomorrow for the big dinner Ten and
Ronan are throwing. We never got to do this when I was alive. It was
just the three of us.”
“We had the best Christmases, Mom. We were together as a
family and you weren’t working. It was the one full day we got with
you.” Carson’s smile was full on.
“I worked too much, Carson.” That was always Bertha’s one big
regret. She taught her boys the meaning of working hard for a living
but there were a lot of nights she wasn’t home to tuck them into bed.
“No, you didn’t, Mom. You worked just enough to keep us
together. Cole and I both knew there were people who needed you
more than us sometimes. We understood that. I didn’t mind cooking
and watching after my brother.”
“You really mean that.” Bertha was surprised. She was expecting
there to be a hint of residual bitterness at losing part of his childhood
to playing father to his younger brother.
“Cole has always been more important to me than anything. Even
now, the only things more important are Truman and my babies.”
 “I did a pretty good job with you two, huh?” Bertha shot him a
wistful grin.
“You did the best job, Mom.” Carson smiled. “And you still are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re here with me every day. Offering advice and helping me
and Tru raise these kids. It’s not easy for me either having to go to
work and leave them here for hours at a time. It helps knowing
you’re here with them. I love it when you stop in to see me at lunch
with stories about funny stuff they do.”
“I wasn’t sure if you liked that or not.” She did know how hard it
was for Carson to leave the house and drive to the Magick shop
every day. At least when she was working, the kids were just
upstairs from the store.
“Everyone at the shop loves it, Mom! The way you tell the stories
about the kids and Cole and I love having lunch with you every day.”
“Bullshit. You just love having dirt on Truman.” Bertha’s cackle
was back.
Carson’s grin sobered. “The day we lost you was the worst day of
my life. It was bad enough that you died, but I felt like I lost you a
second time because I didn’t have your gifts too. I knew what a lost
opportunity it was because if I were a medium like you, we could
speak all the time.”
Bertha hung her head. She’d known what both of her sons had
been going through at the time of her death. It hadn’t just been
Carson who’d felt this way. Cole had too. She’d tried to stay close to
them during the early days, hoping her presence would comfort
them, but then as weeks went by and then months, she saw that
their grief was only getting worse.
 “You knew, didn’t you? How badly Cole and I were taking your
death?”
Bertha nodded. She stepped away from Carson to look in on
Brian who was lying on his back sleeping peacefully.
“It was my vision of Truman that really saved us. Cole was the
one who encouraged me to go find him and save him. Without Tru,
none of us would be here now.” Carson looked surprised by his
revelation.
“I know. I think that same thing all the time. My third son.” It
wasn’t a surprise to Bertha that Carson had picked up on her
thoughts. She wasn’t doing anything to keep them from him
“Then we added Ten, who added Ronan.” Carson snorted.
Bertha started to laugh. “Not even I saw that coming for our
Tennyson.”
“Me either. Our family just keeps growing.” Carson stood beside
Bertha at Brian’s crib.
“You need to get back to bed. The velociraptors will be up in no
time raring to go.” Bertha smiled fondly down at her grandson. She
also didn’t want to accidently spill the beans about the additions to
their family that were coming in the new year. Carson deserved to
have some surprises.
Nodding, Carson set a now sleeping Baby Bertha back in her
crib. “I love you, Mom. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Carson.” Bertha held up a hand as
Carson headed back to bed. She looked around the room at the
three sleeping little ones. “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good
night.” Taking a deep breath, she was gone.
 
 14

Vann
Vann Hoffman was falling asleep. How that was possible amid all
the sitting and standing and kneeling and peace-be-with-you
handshakes, he had no idea. Then there was the singing. It actually
did sound like a heavenly host of angels. The one thing Vann could
say about Catholic Mass was that at least there was no speaking in
tongues.
He hadn’t been to church, much to his mother’s chagrin, in twenty
years at least, barring weddings, baptisms, and funerals. He was
here tonight at Saint Joseph’s in New Bedford, Massachusetts
because Broughan Beals had asked him to come. Like it or not,
Vann could never deny him anything.
The sexy redhead was sitting to his right with his equally
redheaded parents to his right. Going to Midnight Mass on Christmas
Eve was what they did to keep their “Catholic card” punched.
According to Broughan, when he was a kid they used to go to church
on Christmas Eve and Easter. Now that everyone was older and with
families of their own, they only came on Christmas.
The entire row in front of them and the entire row behind them
was filled with the Beals family. When the priest had done his bit
about peace be with you, it had taken Vann five minutes to shake
everyone’s hand. Broughan said that the priest gives extra time for
this because it’s Christmas. Thank God, otherwise Vann wouldn’t
even have gotten through half the family.
He’d nearly had a stroke when Broughan kissed him. Now, he
saw all of the other married couples do the same thing to offer each
other a sign of peace, but all of those couples had been different
sexed couples. He was half expecting God to hurl a thunderbolt
down at them for kissing in a Catholic church. Broughan had grinned
at him which had soothed him a bit, but Vann had still spent the next
two hymns running through the stroke checklist and listening for
distant rumbles of thunder.
The one thing he loved about Saint Joseph’s was the church
itself. The stained-glass windows showed the story of the stations of
the cross. The glass was beautiful by the low, electric candlelight of
the mass, he could only imagine how dazzling the windows were in
full sun.
Vann also loved that this church was part of Broughan history.
This was the church where his parents had been married, as had his
brothers and sisters. All of the Beals siblings had been christened
here. It was a shame that as the last unmarried member of the
family, Broughan wouldn’t be able to get married here like the others
sitting in the pews around them had done.
Broughan had given him the grand tour of his parents’ house
when they had gotten down here from Boston yesterday. There was
a giant wall, opposite the fireplace in the family room that held
framed family pictures. All the wedding pictures were there. All five of
Broughan’s siblings and their wedding parties were photographed up
on that very altar. There was a professional picture of him and
Broughan gracing the wall. Vann had it taken during a trip to the
White Mountains in New Hampshire during foliage season. He
appreciated that Broughan’s mother had it blown up to the same size
as the wedding portraits.
 He’d bought the ring weeks ago. It had been shoved into the toe
of a pair of old gym socks at the back of his drawer. Now, it was
sitting in his suitcase waiting for him to make a decision. Would he
ask the question tomorrow morning in front of the immaculately
decorated Christmas tree? Or would the ring stay hidden?
Turning to his right, Vann looked at Broughan. He was singing
along without having to read the words from the hymnal. He looked
at peace. Like he enjoyed being here. Vann, on the other side was
itching to escape.
Vann looked around at the other members of the family. Some
were singing along like Broughan. One sister was yawning. A
brother-in-law was rocking a sleeping child. At long last the final
song rose to its crescendo before mercifully ending. He was
exhausted and wanted to get back to the house.
“Are you ready to go?” Broughan pulled his knit cap down on his
head.
Vann nodded. He stepped out into the aisle, waiting for Broughan
to kneel beside the pew before they walked out of the church. He still
had no idea why Catholics did that. He did dip his finger in the holy
water font and made the sign of the cross. The gentle smile curving
Broughan’s lips did not go unnoticed.
Once they were back in the car with the heat blasting, Broughan
leaned over the center console to kiss him. “What did you think of
the Mass?”
“You mean aside from all the commands to sit, stand, kneel?”
Vann laughed. It was certainly better than the two hours of standing
he remembered from church when he was a kid.
“Yes,” Broughan laughed. “Aside from that.”
 “It was very peaceful and calming. None of that fire and
brimstone shit I was used to as a kid at the Pentecostal church.”
Those services hadn’t been peaceful at all with members of the
congregation shouting out “Amen” or worse, flapping their hands in
the air and speaking in tongues. At least there hadn’t been any live
snakes. Praise Jesus.
He believed in God, but all the pageantry that went along with it
was a bit much for him. Going to Christmas service once a year with
Broughan wouldn’t be half bad. He could live with that, but could his
handsome redhead live with not being able to get married in his
home church?
“What’s on your mind? You’re awful quiet.” Broughan reached out
a hand to Vann after he pulled onto Main Street.
“Where are you with our relationship?” Shit! He hadn’t meant to
blurt it out like that. He’d wanted to ask where Broughan saw them a
year from now. Or something along those lines.
Broughan snorted. “That’s my Vann. Always straight to the point.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. So harsh and without context. I meant
where do you see us going? You looked really happy sitting in that
church tonight.” Broughan had looked almost angelic sitting next to
him.
“I was happy. You were sitting next to me, occasionally holding
my hand. All these years, I’ve had to watch while my brothers and
sisters brought their significant others home and now, after all of
these years, it’s my turn. I know what a big step this is for you, Vann,
meeting my family and coming home for Christmas with me. That’s
where I am with our relationship. This is taking the next step for me. I
hope you see that.”
 Vann raised Broughan’s free hand to his lips. He saw it all right.
“They all got married at Saint Joseph’s. I saw all of their pictures at
your parents’ house.”
“What does that have to do with-Oh.” Broughan interrupted
himself, seeming to understand all at once where Vann was going
with his train of thought. “Catholic churches don’t allow same-sex
marriage. Is that what you’re worried about?” He gave their joined
hands a squeeze.
“It crossed my mind sitting there tonight with your entire family.”
Crossed his mind? Hell, it was all he’d been able to think about when
he wasn’t obeying the priest’s commands to sit, kneel, and stand.
“You know what’s funny?” Broughan’s voice was quiet.
Vann had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those stories
where he was going to come anywhere close to laughing. “Tell me.”
“Neither one of my parents or any of my brothers and sisters had
any issue with me being gay. No one made fun of me or even asked
if I was sure this was what I wanted. They accepted me for who I
was and that was the end of the discussion. Great, right?”
Vann also knew nothing about the rest of this story was going to
be great. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
Broughan nodded. “But that was where they drew the line. That
creaky old church and its teachings had no tolerance for people like
me, but they made me go just the same. All of my siblings got
married there knowing I wasn’t welcomed. When Quinn got married,
the old priest gave him hell about having me as a groomsman, so I
couldn’t be in the wedding. Instead of telling the old fucker to pound
sand, I had to sit in the pews and watch my brother get married. No
one stuck up for me, Vann. Not my brother, or any of my siblings. Not
my father. No one.”
Vann felt sick to his stomach. What Broughan was talking about
was a form of passive acceptance. It was okay to be gay, but we’re
not going to fight for your rights if it affects anything we’re involved
in. The shittiest part about it was that the church wasn’t even that
important to them. Broughan said they only went to services on
Christmas and Easter, just to keep up fucking appearances. “How
did you forgive that?”
“I’m not sure that I did. I think it’s just one of those things I stuff
down and try not to think about.” Broughan sounded resigned.
Along with Vann’s sick stomach, now his blood was starting to
boil. “Why did we come down here?” His voice was gentle. He wasn’t
upset with Broughan, just wanting to know where his head was at.
“I wanted to show my family how amazing you are. They didn’t
give this whole energy healing thing a whole lot of credit. They just
thought I was out on some whim. That I’d eventually have to settle
down and put my accounting degree to good use. No one said much
since I wasn’t asking to borrow money for rent. They weren’t coming
to my shows either, though.” He shrugged and flipped on the blinker
as he made a right turn. “I just wanted to show them that I did one
thing right with you.”
“Pull over, sweetheart.” Vann had heard enough.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Broughan pulled off his gloves
and reached his hands out toward Vann.
“Aside from being angry at the way your parents treat you, I’m
fine.” He took his boyfriend’s hands in his own and kissed them. He
could feel the tingle of healing energy against his lips. Vann wished
there was a way he could turn that power back on Broughan so he
could heal himself. “What would you say to going home tonight?”
“Home?” Broughan sounded confused.
“Our little love nest is filled with everything we need to be happy.
Ronan and Tennyson are having a late dinner tomorrow night so
they can volunteer at a homeless shelter, then they’ll have presents
and a big dinner with the whole gang.”
“The whole family, you mean.” Broughan’s lips curled into a faint
smile.
Vann nodded. “That’s right. They’ve built their own family full of
people who love and support them. We were invited, you know?”
“They always make enough food to feed an entire army.”
Broughan laughed.
“Plus, there would be time to make your famous seven-layer dip
before we headed up there to volunteer at the shelter…” Vann knew
how much Broughan loved volunteer work. He also knew all
Christmas Day entailed at the Beals house was presents, chaos, and
Irish Whiskey. “We could be packed and out of there in fifteen
minutes.”
“I don’t know.” Broughan snorted. “Mom was going to make hot
chocolate and put out a tray of cookies and stuff.”
“There’s a twenty-four-hour Dunkin Donuts near the highway. I’ll
get you a mint hot chocolate and anything else your heart desires.”
“I just want to run away with you, Doctor Hoffman.” Broughan
reached across the center console to kiss him.
“Let’s do it then!” Vann settled back into his seat as Broughan
pulled back into traffic. He knew exactly what he was going to do
with that ring now. He was going to put it under the tree at Ronan
and Tennyson’s house tomorrow so that he could pop the question in
front of their family. It was going to be the best Christmas day ever.
The gift of Broughan’s love would be enough to last a lifetime.
 

15

Callum
Christmas had never been Callum Churchill’s thing. He wouldn’t
go so far as to say he was a Grinch, but his toe was definitely on the
line. He did hate the Christmas season, especially now that it
seemed to unofficially begin on November first.
To be honest though, he had started seeing Christmas
decorations showing up in local stores around the middle of October.
Then there was that one store, whose name he refused to even say,
which started putting fake Christmas trees up in fucking July.
“Now, Callum, how many times have I told to you stop frowning
like that. You’ll get wrinkles.” Madam Aurora used her right thumb to
smooth out that spot between his eyebrows.
“I was frowning about fucking Christmas.” He rolled his icy blue
eyes. “And how the marketing starts in October.”
“Oh, come on, honey. We both know that you hate Christmas
because you were never allowed to celebrate it as a kid.”
Callum folded his arms over his chest. Damn, Aurora! She could
read him so easily. It didn’t matter how many blocks he put in place
or how many charms he cast over himself. She was easily able to
blast through them like a toddler knocking over a sand castle at the
beach.
 His father had been raised Jehovah’s Witness and had insisted
his mother convert before they were married. Callum had been
raised in the ways of the church as well. It wasn’t until he was a
teenager and had been assigned a research project on the Salem
Witch Trials that he’d discovered his family history.
His ten times great-grandmother, Abigail Churchill, had been one
of the victims of the trials. From that moment on, Callum had
devoted his life to learning as much as he could about her and his
family history. This led to a lot of contention at home which
eventually led to him becoming estranged from his parents.
When Nobody’s Witch, the biography he wrote about Abigail and
the history of her life in Salem made the bestseller list, he hadn’t
spoken to his parents in a decade. They’d tried to get in touch with
him when he’d gone on a nationwide media tour, but the reunion
hadn’t gone well. Wiccans and Jehovah’s Witnesses didn’t mix well.
The idea that their son had become a “boy-witch” was the last straw.
Callum had been officially shunned by his own family.
That was where Madam Aurora stepped in. She’d offered Callum
a job at her shop and helped him develop his gifts to their fullest
advantage. They’d become fast friends and eventually business
partners.
“How about a cup of cocoa before I put on the next movie?”
Aurora asked as she hopped off the couch.
“Seriously? I’ve had one cup already.” That was enough
chocolate to last him an entire year. He didn’t want to end up doughy
around the middle. He’d never find a man looking like that.
Aurora arched an elegant eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you say you
were always jealous of the stories the kids at school would tell about
Christmas?”
She was right. He had been jealous. Not just of the presents and
the trips to the mall to meet Santa, but of the tradition of it all. The
family gatherings and the meals shared together. All he ever had at
the Kingdom Hall was stale baloney sandwiches while the adults
talked about tithing more money to the church.
“Okay, I’ll have another cup with mini marshmallows this time.”
He’d run extra hard at the gym the day after Christmas. It wasn’t like
men were beating down his door anyway.
“I’ll be right back.” Aurora hurried off toward her cozy kitchen.
They’d spent the morning shopping for presents at the mall.
Ronan and Tennyson had invited them for Christmas dinner
tomorrow and Callum didn’t want to show up empty-handed. He’d
even had his picture taken with Santa. He’d had an answer when the
man in the Santa suit asked him what he wanted for Christmas: a
new cauldron. Santa had looked at him funny, but promised to bring
him one since he’d been such a good boy this year.
“Here we go!” Aurora handed him a steaming mug of hot
chocolate. Peppermint marshmallows crowded the surface of the
cup. “How about White Christmas? That’s my favorite movie.”
“Why? Isn’t this movie like fifty years old?” Callum hadn’t quite
found what Aurora found so quaint in movies that were older than
them both combined.
“That’s why. I used to watch this with my Mom and my sisters
when we were little. It became an annual tradition. Even when we
didn’t all make it home for Christmas, we’d call each other on the
phone and watch together.”
 “It’s not the movie. It’s the memories of being a family.” Another
thing Callum didn’t have. His parents were always doing things with
the church. He’d been a good kid, bookish and self-reliant. They’d
always left him home alone so they could go to this meeting or that,
always proving he was never their priority.
“Now you stop those thoughts. You’re a priority now and that’s all
that counts.” Aurora patted his knee. “It’s never too late to start new
traditions, Callum. Spending Christmas Eve together, helping out at
the shelter tomorrow, then having dinner with Ten and Ronan, we’re
building a family and new traditions.”
Callum nodded. It had been so long since he’d belonged to an
actual family. He’d dated someone a few years back during the
height of his book’s success, but it hadn’t really panned out.
“You know there’s someone on the way for you.” Aurora started
to laugh.
“Woman, would you get out of my head!” Callum started to laugh
along with her. “You’ve been saying that for nearly a year now. First
you said he was coming in the winter, then the spring, then whoops, I
was wrong, I see him coming in the summer. Now, it’s fucking
Christmas and here we are, two old queens watching White
Christmas and drinking cocoa, without a man in sight!” Callum
reached for another cookie, biting off half of it at once. He didn’t
care. It wasn’t as if Mr. Right was going to ring his doorbell tonight.
“You know the future has a way of changing depending on other
circumstances. There’s a big change coming for you.”
“You said that before,” Callum said through a mouthful of cookie.
Crumbs rained down on his silk pajama top. “Only the last time you
weren’t getting a clear picture of it.”
 “Oh, it’s clear now and it’s got Jude Byrne written all over it.”
“Kill me now, Goddess!” Callum looked up at the ceiling as if he
expected a lightning bolt to do just that. “I wouldn’t touch that man
with a stolen dick and a pair gloves.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Aurora shook her head. “It’s this new job
that Jude’s going to undertake at West Side Magick. This ghost
hunting…thing. He and whoever his partner is going to be are going
to have some epic cases. Adventures, I’d call them.” Aurora’s smile
was a mile wide. “People love paranormal stuff, Callum. They watch
shows about it on television, go to see movies that scare the pants
off of them. They buy romance novels about vampires and
werewolves and psychics. What there isn’t really a lot of are true
stories. The true hauntings of Salem…” she trailed off.
Callum followed the breadcrumbs Aurora was leaving. “Wait! Are
you saying I’m meant to write the stories of Jude’s and whoever’s
adventures?”
Aurora nodded. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? You’d still have your
clients at the shop, but this would get you out a bit. Get you meeting
people. Maybe you’d meet that special person.”
“Just what I need, a haunted husband.” Callum started laughing
again.
“The new year is going to be pretty magical for all of us. Now
hush, the movie’s starting.” Aurora rested her head against Callum’s
shoulder.
The warlock managed a smile. He’d been at his happiest when
he’d been writing and researching Nobody’s Witch. The idea for a
follow up book had been bouncing around his head, but he could
never get any traction with it. Maybe this was why. He was meant to
write something else.
Callum supposed Jude wasn’t half bad, when he wasn’t being a
dick about witches. Or calling him a boy-witch. Or trying to get in
everyone’s pants. Jude wasn’t half bad when he wasn’t being Jude.
When he was on a case there was no one he trusted more.
Skeletons in Salem’s Closet… Now that had an interesting ring to
it. All he needed to do now was get the stories without killing Jude
Byrne.
“Come on, Callum. Sing with me. I know you know the words.”
Aurora nudged him. “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…”
 

16

Tennyson
The kids were nestled all snug in their beds, and by kids,
Tennyson meant Jude and Emilyn. The two of them ended up
making a last-minute switch when Em realized she couldn’t get off
the air mattress without rolling onto the floor. Jude insisted she take
the bed in the spare room and he’d sleep on the air mattress in the
room that would be Everly’s. He joked that he wouldn’t be able to
see the petal pink walls in the dark.
Now that his guests were all settled, Ten could find his own bed.
When he opened the door to his room, he found Ronan and Dixie
sound asleep with the TV blaring an old rerun of Law & Order: SVU.
Ronan claimed that Dixie loved the show, but Ten knew better, he’d
managed to turn his husband into a fan.
 He headed into the bathroom to brush and floss. When he came
out, Ronan was sitting up in bed, yawning. His hair was sticking up in
all kinds of crazy directions.
“Is it Christmas yet?” He looked down at Dixie who was still
asleep with her head on Ronan’s knee.
“Not yet. Thirty more minutes.” Ten scooped the dog off Ronan
and put her in her own bed. She snored like a drunken sailor and
putting her across the room helped to cut down on the noise.
“Man, I was out cold. I feel like I woke up in another century.”
Ronan rubbed a hand against his already messy bed head.
“Well, that’s because you tried to enact a hundred different family
traditions tonight.” Tennyson had been touched by Ronan’s
impression of the Tasmanian Devil moving from thing to thing at light
speed. He’d gone from movies to crafts to baking to toy assembly, all
faster than Tennyson could keep up with. No wonder Ronan had
napped like the dead.
Ronan started to laugh. “I did, didn’t I. Do you think that’s a
record?”
“It is in our family.” Ten sincerely hoped Ronan found what he’d
been searching for tonight because with a ten-month-old baby to
care for, they weren’t going to have time for family tradition
Olympics, Ronan edition, one year from now.
Dixie let out a very unladylike snort from across the room.
“Do you think our little miss is going to snore like that?” Ronan
asked.
“Of course not. She’ll make dainty little girl noises, drink her bottle
with her pinkie high in the air, and her shit will smell like lavender.”
Ten climbed into bed, brushing a kiss against Ronan’s temple.
 “I love when she’s here with us, Ten. Sleeping under our roof.”
Ronan’s voice was filled with emotion.
Emilyn was still staying at her house. Where they already knew
Everly’s due date, Em didn’t see any need to come stay with Ten and
Ronan. “I love when she’s here too.”
“Our baby here with us for Christmas. That’s why we needed a
new tradition, Ten, because Everly is here. Em talks to her all the
time. I know Bertha and Mom visit her spirit. I know she’s here with
us. She might not remember the year Daddy Ronan lost his fool
mind making crafts, cookies, and a lopsided gingerbread house, but
we’ll have hundreds of pictures to show her someday.”
Ten had fallen in love with Ronan at least a dozen more times
today. This was lucky number thirteen. “Do you think she’ll lap that
up or be like ‘Not the pictures again, Daddy!’”
“Probably both.” Ronan wrapped an arm around Tennyson. “I
think those teenage years are going to break us. When she doesn’t
want hugs or kisses from us anymore, you’re gonna have to love me
extra hard, Ten. I don’t think I’ll survive my little girl not wanting me to
tuck her in at night. Hell, I’m having a hard time with Dixie being
across the room.”
Tennyson looked over at their little princess who was hanging
halfway out of her pink princess dog bed with her tongue lolling out,
snoring like a lumberjack, and burst out laughing. “I’m so sorry,
Ronan,” Ten managed between fits of the giggles. “Dixie’s a hot
mess and so are you.”
Ronan started to laugh along with him. He swiped at his eyes,
pulling Ten closer. “Laugh it up now. I’ll remind you of this when
Everly’s off on her first car date.”
 Ten sobered instantly. “Shut your mouth. Everly’s not dating until
she’s thirty.”
“Try forty.” Ronan snorted.
“Who’s gonna walk her down the aisle?” Ten asked. He couldn’t
imagine the two of them flipping a coin for that honor.
Ronan clutched his heart like he was having a heart attack. “Both
of us! I’m gonna need you on the other side of her holding me up.”
Ten agreed. He was going to need Ronan just as much. “We
have so many things to look forward to, Ronan.”
“We do,” Ronan agreed. “What was your favorite tradition
tonight? Out of all the crazy shit I tried, which one did you like best?”
Ten was torn, did he tell Ronan about the little chat he’d had with
Erin or make something up? “Well, I have a bit of inside intel.” The
truth was always the best policy.
“Shit,” Ronan sighed. “That means you were visited by the Ghost
of Christmas Past, weren’t you?”
“Emilyn was, but I walked in on the middle of it.” Tennyson loved
that Erin was spending time with Em and Everly like that.
“Which ghost are we talking about? Bertha or my Mom?”
“It was Erin.” Ten knew Ronan was going to have a hard time
hearing that. He knew how much he missed his mother.
“I’m sorry I missed her.”
Ten could hear the emotion in Ronan’s voice. He knew this was a
possibility. “She told us about the way that the two of you used to
make those same M&M cookies when you were little. So, my vote for
the new Grimm-O’Mara family tradition, goes to the old O’Mara
family tradition.”
 “Damn.” Ronan shook his head. “I was going to tell you all about
that tonight, but I guess Mom beat me to it. Baking cookies was
always my favorite part of Christmas Eve. It meant it was just the two
of us. All of our errands were done and we could stay home together.
We’d always talk about Christmases past…”
“Just like we did today?” Ten had loved that part too. It was
another way to get to know his husband better.
Ronan nodded silently. “Was Mom with us when we were baking
and doing all of those other crazy things?”
“No. I never saw her until I went up to get Emilyn. I think she was
with us, but not making herself visible. I think she wanted us to
define our own traditions instead of her butting in.”
“We never would have seen it that way.”
“Well, of course not.”
“I’m glad she was here and spending time with Em.” Ronan
pulled Tennyson closer.
“Me too.”
“You know, babe. In all of the madness of these last few weeks,
you never told me what you wanted for Christmas.”
Ten snuggled closer to Ronan. “It’s five minutes until Christmas,
Ronan, haven’t you left it a little late in the game to be asking?”
“I’ve got plenty of time. I might even get this present in a little
early.” Ronan chuckled against the side of Ten’s head.
“I’ve got my big, burly present right here.” Ten pressed a kiss
against Ronan’s heart.
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
“You’re married to a psychic. Something was bound to rub off on
you sooner or later. I love you so much, Ronan.”
 “I love you too, babe. Just so you know, there’s a real present
waiting for you under the tree that’s going to knock your socks off.
No fair using your gift though.” Ronan leaned over to switch the light
off.
Too late… Ten couldn’t help peeking inside Ronan’s head for a
tiny glimpse at what Ronan had bought him. As usual, his husband
was right. The baby book, complete with all of Everly’s ultrasound
pictures and videos already inside of it was going to knock his socks
off.
Ten could only hope his present to Ronan would have the same
emotional impact. It wasn’t every day that a man got the fifty-five-
inch flat-screen television of his dreams. Oh, and a perfect 4D
ultrasound picture of Everly’s face. That tiny smile was definitely
going to make this a Christmas Ronan would never forget.
 

17

Everly Erin
12:01am Christmas Day…
“Merry Christmas, Daddy Tennyson.” Everly Erin’s spirit crossed
the room to Ronan’s side of the bed.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy Ronan.” Pressing an angel-soft kiss to
Ronan’s temple, Everly smiled at her father. “Only fifty-one days until
I’m here to stay…”
 
IF YOU ENJOYED MEETING COLD CASE DETECTIVE
RONAN O’MARA AND PSYCHIC TENNYSON GRIMM, GO BACK
TO WHERE IT ALL BEGAN WITH BOOK ONE IN THE COLD
CASE PSYCHIC SERIES, DEAD SPEAK!
 Demoted to the cold case squad after shooting a suspect in the
line of duty, Detective Ronan O’Mara knows that his career with the
Boston Police Department is hanging by a thread. His first
assignment is the case of Michael Frye, a five-year-old boy who has
been missing for seven years. With no new leads or witnesses to
interview, Ronan has to start from scratch to solve this mystery.
When he sees a handsome local psychic on television, Ronan
figures he’s got nothing to lose in enlisting the man’s help to find
Michael.
Psychic Tennyson Grimm is riding high after helping South Shore
cops find a missing child. He’s even being courted by the Reality
Show Network about a program showcasing his abilities. He has no
idea that his midday appointment with a customer, who instead turns
out to be a police detective, is going to change the course of his life
and his career.
With the blessing of the BPD, which badly needs an image
makeover, Ronan is allowed to bring Tennyson in to assist with the
Frye case. Being thrown together in front of cameras is never easy,
but add in an emotional missing persons investigation, a tight-lipped
spirit, and a cop who’s a skeptic, and it definitely puts a strain on
both men and their working relationship.
When the child’s body is found, the work to identify his killer
begins. As Ronan and Tennyson get closer to solving the case, the
initial attraction they feel for one another explodes into a passion
neither man can contain.
Will working together to bring Michael’s killer to justice seal their
fledgling bond, or will unexpected revelations in the case tear them
apart forever?
 
Dead Speak is available in eBook, Paperback. Kindle
Unlimited, or Audio Book format!
https://amazon.com/Dead-Speak-Cold-Case-Psychic-
ebook/dp/B07769VFJR/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-
text&ie=UTF8&qid=1533403817&sr=1-
1&keywords=dead+speak+pandora+pine
  
IF YOU’RE A REGULAR FOLLOWER OF THE COLD CASE
PSYCHIC SERIES, BOOK NINE, DEAD MAN WALKING, IS
AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER! GRAB YOUR COPY TODAY!
Cold Case Detective, Ronan O’Mara is stunned to see the
breaking news that a well-known mobster he helped to put behind
bars, Vito “The Dragon” Dragonni, has been released from prison
after his life sentence is overturned on a technicality. When
prominent members involved in the original case against The Dragon
start turning up dead, Ronan starts to wonder if he’s next.
Psychic, Tennyson Grimm starts having visions of dead men with
The Dragon’s signature kill shot: two bullet holes to the forehead.
The men in the visions are strangers, but when he learns from an
undercover agent that Dragonni has compiled a hit list with Ronan
and his ex-partner, Tony, at the top, he fears a day will come when
he recognizes the murder victim in his vision.
Tony Abruzzi has been a broken man since the tragic death of his
adopted son, Mark. Refusing the offer of protective custody until
Dragonni and his hit squad are off the streets, he seems to be daring
the mobster to come after him. Despite the fact that they’ve been
estranged since the case that cost Tony’s son his life, Ronan decides
to stick to his former partner’s side as his personal bodyguard,
whether Tony wants his help or not.
Can Ronan and Tony find a way to work together to stop The
Dragon before he can cross more names off his hit list or are both
detectives dead men walking?
https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Walking-Cold-Case-Psychic-
ebook/dp/B07JRDP428?
keywords=dead+man+walking+pandora+pine&qid=1540744894&sr=
8-1-spell&ref=sr_1_1
 
THAT OLD MAGIC, CAPTAIN KEVIN FITZGIBBON’S LONG-
AWAITED SPIN OFF IS NOW AVAILABLE! GRAB YOUR COPY
TODAY!
 Boston Police Captain, Kevin Fitzgibbon thought he’d found the
missing piece of his heart when psychic Madam Aurora prophesied
the love of his life was philanthropist, Jace Lincoln. After spending
months as on-again, off-again boyfriends, the pair are off again,
perhaps for good, leaving Kevin distraught and grumpy.
Jace Lincoln is still trying to put his life back together after Fitz
dumped him on Valentine’s Day. While getting back into the swing of
things with a new man, a drunk Fitzgibbon barges in on their date
like Godzilla destroying Tokyo. Listening to Fitz carry on about how
much he misses what they had together makes Jace wonder if they
still have enough of that old magic left to try one last time.
Through a series of dates ranging from ridiculous to right on the
money, Fitz and Jace reconnect and find that the things keeping
them apart might not be so insurmountable after all. Deciding to give
their relationship another try, they start planning a bright future
together.
That future is stopped dead in its tracks when tragedy strikes at a
party celebrating the tenth anniversary of Jace’s homeless shelter.
Will Kevin and Jace survive to begin a new life together or have they
lost their last chance at happiness for good this time?
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JB2G376/ref=sr_1_1?
ie=UTF8&qid=1539298094&sr=8-
1&keywords=that+Old+magic+pandora+pine
 
TO KEEP UP WITH ALL THINGS COLD CASE PSYCHIC, JOIN
MY NEWSLETTER!
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Books by Pandora Pine
Cold Case Psychic Series
Vision of Love

Dead Speak

Dead Reckoning

Dead Silent

Dead Weight

Dead to Me

Dead Ringer

Dead in the Water

Dead of Night

Dead Man Walking

 Cold Case Psychic Spin Offs

Beyond the Grave

Spellbound

Blood Song

That Old Magic

Hunter’s Curse

Christmas Short: Merry and Bright

Coming Soon… Tiny Dancer

 Sand Dollar Shoal Series
Undercurrent

Riptide

Deep Blue

Storm Surge
Reading, Writing, and Romance Series
A Little Love

A Little Lesson

A Little Luck
On The Radio Series
Pillow Talk

Double Talk

Country Talk
 Student Bodies Series
Like the Knight

In the Shade

Do No Harm

Brick and Mortar

All Fall Down

Ties That Bind

Third and Long

Across the Pond

Happily Ever After

 
Find all of my books here: https://www.amazon.com/Pandora-
Pine/e/B013BSSBX0/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1538324516&sr=8-2-ent