Hex the Halls: A Paranormal Christmas Anthology

by Deanna Chase

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  A hint of sadness pulled at the corners of his smile. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

  “Tell you what? Next year you’ll get me two.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “You’re so sure this is going to work.”

  “Sam, how do you honestly feel about me?”

  His face went sweetly serious. “I’m crazy about you. I can already feel those possessive wolf urges kicking in. You’ve started something in me that I don’t think can be stopped.”

  “I feel the same way about you. There’s no reason we can’t make a go of this.”

  He nodded, slowly. “You’re right. My… girlfriend is right. And hot. And a really good kisser.” He leaned toward her.

  She put her hand on his chest and grinned. “This discussion isn’t over yet. After you visit with Charlie and Ivy and me, then what are you going to do?”

  Her hand didn’t do much to stop him. He nuzzled her neck while he answered. “Then I’m probably going to go back to the firehouse and crash. I have forty-eight hours until my next twenty-four-hour shift.”

  She shivered at what his tongue was doing. She squirmed sideways so she could look him in the eye. “How about you go back to the firehouse, pack a bag, and come to my place? You can sleep there. Then when you wake up, I’ll make you dinner and we can hang out and watch It’s a Wonderful Life and maybe do some more snuggling. That could be my present.”

  He nodded as his hands came to rest on her hips. “I could do that.” His eyes narrowed. “Does that mean you’re getting me something? Because really, my being there is about the only present I’ll be able to swing this year.”

  She laughed with the sudden surge of emotions that filled her. “You’re all I want for Christmas, trust me. Although I’m pretty sure I can find something extraspecial for you to unwrap.”

  “Bridget Merrow. Are you propositioning me?”

  She poked him in the chest. “Maybe you’re not so dumb after all.”

  Author Note

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  About the Author

  Kristen Painter likes to balance her obsessions with shoes and cats by making the lives of her characters miserable and surprising her readers with interesting twists. She currently writes paranormal romance and award-winning urban fantasy. The former college English teacher can often be found all over social media where she loves to interact with readers: Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram

  Other books by Kristen Painter

  URBAN FANTASY:

  The House of Comarré series:

  Forbidden Blood

  Blood Rights

  Flesh and Blood

  Bad Blood

  Out For Blood

  Last Blood

  The Crescent City series:

  House of the Rising Sun

  City of Eternal Night

  Garden of Dreams and Desires

  PARANORMAL ROMANCE:

  Nocturne Falls series:

  The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride

  The Werewolf Meets His Match

  The Gargoyle Gets His Girl

  The Professor Woos The Witch

  Sin City Collectors series:

  Queen of Hearts

  Dead Man’s Hand

  Double or Nothing

  Stand-alone books:

  Dark Kiss of the Reaper

  Heart of Fire

  All Fired Up

  A Miracle On Bourbon Street

  Deanna Chase

  A Miracle On Bourbon Street

  Deanna Chase

  Copyright © 2015 Deanna Chase

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Summary

  From New York Times bestselling author Deanna Chase, A Miracle on Bourbon Street

  It’s Christmas Eve and Jade Calhoun’s ready for a quiet, magical night with her husband Kane. But when Santa demons and energy-stealing elves start wreaking havoc, it’s going to take a miracle on Bourbon Street to save Christmas.

  * * *

  To read more about Jade and Kane check out the Jade Calhoun series.

  To learn about Deanna’s new releases sign up for her newsletter here. Do you prefer text alerts? Text WITCHYBOOKS to 24587 for news and updates.

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  1

  The soothing scents of molasses and cinnamon filled my kitchen as I pulled the gingerbread cake out of the oven. Perfect. The only thing left to do was to change into my Christmas witch outfit. The sexy one I’d picked out just for Kane.

  It was Christmas Eve, and it had been well over a month since I’d spent any quality time with my gorgeous husband. We’d both been too busy: Kane hunting rogue demons and me rescuing lost souls from the shadow world. In the weeks between Halloween and Christmas, I’d personally saved forty-two souls from being snatched into Hell. We deserved a break.

  And a little sexy time, hence the red velvet miniskirt and thigh-high boots waiting for me in my closet.

  I smiled to myself and went to change. Thirty minutes later, I reemerged with my long strawberry blond hair tucked under a pointy red hat and wearing the sexified Mrs. Claus dress. Sparkling diamond pentagrams hung from my ears to complete the effect.

  A knock sounded on the front door, followed by the creak of the hinges as someone let themselves in. “Jade?”

  “Pyper?” I called back, striding from the kitchen in the back of our Victorian shotgun double toward the front of the house. She had a key, so it wasn’t unusual for her to walk in, but she knew I had a romantic evening planned. Something was wrong.

  Pyper, wearing a shimmering, silver-beaded dress, met me halfway in the dining room. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

  “Where else would I be?” I glanced at the clock. “Kane’s supposed to be here any minute.”

  She winced and a lock of her black and electric-blue-streaked hair fell over one eye. “No where, I just… sorry. I’m a little flustered. He was at the café when Santa showed up and tried to snag one of my customers.”

  “What? Someone tried to abduct a customer?” Pyper owned the Grind, a café on Bourbon Street. Usually the most troubling thing that happened there was her resident ghost drawing inappropriate sketches of éclairs and rum balls on the menu board.

  “Not a someone. A demon,” she said, her tone apologetic. “Kane went after him, obviously, but not before he sent me to—” The doorbell rang and she gave me a sheepish smile. “Well, you’ll see. Come on.”

  I followed her to the door, but just before she slipped out, she swept her gaze down my body. “Super fun outfit, but I think you’re gonna want your coat.”

  While New Orleans wasn’t exactly freezing in December, it wasn’t warm either. Wandering around in a miniskirt at night would turn me into a popsicle. “But I don’t have anything that matches.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just spell something? You are a white witch.”

  “No. That would take a potion and a bunch of time. It’s usually easier and more cost-effective to just buy something new.” I sighed and reached for my new teal trench coat hanging on my coat rack.

  Her lips twitched. “Uh, Jade, maybe white would be better.”

  “Of course it would, but it’s at the cleaners. It’s teal or nothin
g.”

  “Teal it is,” she said, chuckling as she shuffled me out onto my front porch.

  “What’s this?” I asked, smiling. Sitting in front of my house was a horse-drawn carriage draped with holly and elaborate red ribbons.

  “A pre-Christmas gift from Kane. He was going to take you on a ride around the Quarter to check out the holiday decorations. But since he’s battling evil he sent me.”

  My heart swelled. What a sweet idea.

  She climbed in the carriage and held up a thermos. “And there’s hot buttered rum to get the party started.”

  “That will warm me up.” I grinned and climbed in after her. “But where’s the driver?”

  She pumped her eyebrows and said, “Onward, Poindexter.”

  The horse, a real one, not the mules that carried the tourists around the French Quarter, lifted his head high and trotted forward.

  “Poindexter?” I asked.

  “He’s the ghost steering the horse.”

  The carriage rolled along the paved streets and suddenly lit up with twinkle lights. Two mugs appeared out of thin air as the thermos levitated and poured a healthy dose into each mug.

  I held my hand out and my grin widened as I turned to Pyper. “Did Kane set this all up by himself or did you help him?”

  “I might have had a hand in it.” She waved toward the seemingly empty driver’s bench where the ghost must be. “Being a medium comes in handy sometimes. But Bea spelled the lights, mugs, and thermos.”

  A group effort then. Kane had gone through a lot of trouble and hadn’t even been able to join me. I glanced down at my Mrs. Claus outfit and sighed. It would’ve been one hell of a Christmas Eve.

  “Hey,” Pyper said, putting her hand on my arm. “Don’t count me out yet. We’re going to have a hell of a time tonight.”

  “Of course we are.” I raised my mug in a toast. “To the most fun a girl can have with her underwear on.”

  She burst out laughing. When she sobered, she gave me a sly smile. “Who said I was wearing underwear?”

  “Oh, geez.” I chuckled and took a long sip of my drink. “Figures. So, Miss Commando, where are we headed?”

  Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’ll see.”

  2

  The carriage rolled along the neighborhood streets of the Quarter and paused at a large private residence. The Creole townhouse that sat on the corner of Royal and St. Ann had a large wraparound balcony on both the second and third stories, each draped in garland filled with thousands of white twinkling lights. A dozen nutcrackers were on the second story balcony, positioned between the floor-to-ceiling windows, while two stood guard on the corner near the front door.

  “Very pretty,” I said, eyeing the huge holly wreaths hanging in each of the windows. Gorgeous crystal bulbs hung in the middle of the wreaths and sparkled from the twinkle lights.

  “Yeah, it is. But watch this.” She nodded to the house with a coy smile.

  “Watch what—Oh!” Music from The Nutcracker, “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” filled the streets, and the giant wooden nutcrackers came to life. They stepped forward, moving their arms up and down in time with the music. Then the lights started to blink, also in time with the music.

  I was transfixed as I sat there with the cup of hot buttered rum warming my hands. The tingle of magic in the air was comforting, familiar, and I knew at once Bea, my mentor, had been responsible for the spell. A crowd had gathered, their happiness filling me up, making me whole on the most wonderful night of the year. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad being an empath. On nights like Christmas Eve when everyone was hopeful and loving, it was nothing short of miraculous.

  “Kane set this up?” I asked Pyper, watching the crystal ornaments change from red to green to silver.

  “Yeah. You must be really good in bed to deserve this.” She winked and raised her mug, saluting me.

  “You did not just say that.” I laughed and turned my attention back to the magical Christmas show. When the song ended, the nutcrackers marched back to their starting point and the lights winked out. The crowd erupted in excited applause, once again boosting my energy.

  A small twinge of sadness hit me as I longed for Kane to be sitting beside me. He’d gone out of his way to make the night special for me, and he was missing it.

  Pyper patted my knee. “Cheer up, Jade. I’m sure he’ll catch up with us as soon as he can.”

  I glanced at her. “Are you the empath now?”

  “Ha. Hardly. But there’s no mistaking that wistfulness in your puppy dog eyes. Now stop moping. We have six more stops.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” She waved a hand. “Onward, Poindexter.”

  The horse trotted forward, and once again, we were on the move. We stopped at five more houses, and each one put on an awe inspiring show: singing sugar plums, spinning Christmas trees, animated snowmen, dancing candy canes, and tumbling gingerbread men. By the time the carriage turned in through the gates of Jackson Square Park in the French Quarter, I was certain we’d seen everything; that is until I spotted the parade making its way along the paved paths, being led by twelve drummers drumming. Behind them was a gaggle of eleven men in kilts carrying bagpipes.

  I pointed with my mouth open. “Kane did that too?”

  Pyper laughed. “No. That’s the entertainment for the lighting of the Christmas tree.”

  There was a giant tree in the middle of the park. Off to the side was a temporary stage with a dozen elves lined up, wearing crisp, forest-green uniforms and pointed leather hats. The carriage stopped right before the stage and one of the elves came running up and held his hand out. “Ms. Calhoun, we are so happy you made it.”

  “Uhh…thanks?” I shot Pyper a confused look, but placed my hand in the elf’s and let him help me out of the carriage. He was tall and thin, with shimmering green eyes and angular bone structure. Handsome, in an intriguing sort of way.

  “This way, please. Then we can get the ceremony started.” He tugged me up the stairs to the stage as the other elves broke into song, singing, “Do You Hear What I Hear.”

  Their voices were as sweet as angels’, sending chills over my skin. I was completely mesmerized by their infectious tone.

  “Have a seat.” The elf’s charming smile reached his eyes.

  I glanced around him at the high-backed wooden chair. Then I turned and spotted Pyper waving her fingers at me while she moved toward the tree.

  “Um, why?” I asked, confused.

  “You’re the leader of the New Orleans coven, are you not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You are our honored guest.” He bowed and waved his hand with a flourish. “Our Christmas queen.”

  Sitting on some fancy throne, watching the festivities was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d rather be hanging out with Pyper, wandering around, being awed by the grandeur until we were too frozen to do anything but run back home and wrap ourselves in fuzzy blankets on the couch.

  But the way the elves were all gathered around looking at me expectantly, I felt I didn’t have a choice and reluctantly shuffled to the chair. At least it was sort of flattering to be asked to play the Christmas queen.

  As soon as my butt hit the chair, the elves ceased singing and closed ranks around me. An invisible force brushed up against me, and the pressure increased, crushing me as if I’d been stuffed in a vise. I opened my mouth to cry out, but the air rushed out of my lungs along with all the joy from the carriage ride through the French Quarter.

  My eyes watered and I lurched forward, sliding out of the chair. The elves formed a solid barrier, completely concealing me from the activities in the square.

  “Our apologies, Ms. Calhoun,” the elf who’d helped me out of the carriage said into my ear. “We regret the circumstances, but they can’t be helped.”

  “Circumstances?” I gasped out. “You’re stealing my energy.”

  “Only because we have to.”

  I glanced back, glarin
g at the elf and reached for the magic pulsing in my chest. But it slipped from my mental grasp and the harder I tried to grab hold, the more elusive it became. I let out a huff of frustration and crawled up on my knees.

  The elves seemed to grow, towering over me.

  One of the elves started singing again, her sweet voice belting out a heart-rending version of “Silent Night.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I said through clenched teeth, trying to block out the pulsing ache running through my entire body.

  The elf turned slowly and stared down at me. His apologetic expression vanished, replaced by determined eyes and hardened features as his body vibrated with tension. “Freedom.”

  3

  “Excuse me?” I shot back, but the tall elf had already moved to center stage in front of the rest of his group. They all joined the angelic elf in her version of “Silent Night.” From what I could see of the crowd, the elves had captivated their attention and everything else had stopped—including the Twelve Days of Christmas parade.

  The chatter vanished, and every last soul was completely captivated. Including me. There was a bittersweet sadness to the song that was stirring emotions deep in my gut. And the more they sang, the more my heart swelled to nearly bursting.

  I shook my head, trying to snap out of whatever was happening. It was a spell. It had to be. Their voices were too intoxicating.

  Using the chair, I clawed my way up until I was finally standing on my own two feet. But they were cemented to the stage, making it impossible to move.

  Holy hell. I needed to do something, anything, before the crazy elves drained the last of my energy. I lifted my arm, struggling against the invisible pressure, and reached forward. If I could just touch one of them, I could tap into my magic and take back what they’d stolen from me. But just before I grabbed the shoulder of the nearest elf, a female with gorgeous porcelain skin and big blue eyes, she spun and hissed at me through ugly pointed teeth. Her hands morphed into boney claws, complete with sharpened, blood-red nails.