Hex the Halls: A Paranormal Christmas Anthology

by Deanna Chase

  “Eww, extra gross.” She held up her hand and if that could block the imagery he presented.

  “Don’t lie, witch. I can smell your lie.”

  He’d rattled her. “Whatever, I can smell your… darkness.” It did have its own particular smell—the dark. It defied explanation, and against all of her better instincts, she found she liked it.

  Enoch stepped closer to her.

  In defense, she adopted her crone incarnation, a slightly plump older woman, with a puffy gray bun, and a grandmotherly affectation.

  “Well, now that’s interesting.” He leaned closer to her. “Woman, you smell like apple cinnamon and sugar cookies.” He leaned in closer.

  She put her hand out and pushed at his chest (his deliciously broad, and strong chest, not that she was paying attention to that). “Not one step closer, you foul thing.”

  The red in his eyes had gone darker, like spilled blood over his sclera. “It’s not my fault I like cookies.”

  “These cookies don’t like you.”

  “So you’ve said. But still, you called for a Goblin King to save you.”

  “I didn’t. We’ve already established I was just talking to the movie.”

  “You must’ve meant it. You’re a talented and wicked enough witch that you would’ve woven some failsafe into those boundary spells.”

  “I meant it for Jareth, not you!” She put her hands on her hips. “Why are you even here? What do you want?”

  “You, my dear.” And with that, he clapped an iron bracelet around her wrist and the ozone split with a blast of thunder and lightning.

  2

  “What just happened?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve claimed you.” He didn’t actually sound afraid at all.

  She still couldn’t have heard him correctly. “You do know who I am, right? Did you forget? I’m a witch. Who will hex your balls into another dimension.”

  “That’s what’s hot about you. I like a little spice. A little fear.” He waggled his pale eyebrows at her.

  “This can’t be happening to me. There must’ve been something else in that last spoonful of mugwort.” She shook her head; as if that could rattle herself awake. Eleanor decided that maybe pinching herself would have the desired effect and pinched her own arm.

  No luck, she was actually awake and this inanity, no, ignominy was actually being perpetrated against her.

  “I need heirs, woman. Let’s go.” He hauled her up over his shoulder and she tried to summon her magick, but to no avail. The bastard cuff he placed around her wrist short-circuited her magick.

  “Oh, you bastard. You’re going to pay.”

  He laughed.

  She punched him in the kidney and he dropped her right on her face. Eleanor didn’t exactly enjoy it.

  “Ow, what the fuck?” he grumbled.

  “You didn’t think that you were going to just slap this stupid cuff on me, steal me, and that I would just follow along, did you?” She rolled over and scrambled to her feet.

  He was still rubbing his side and back where she’d punched him. “Points to you, I totally wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Look, Enoch. I don’t know how you keep your throne with that kind of pain tolerance. It’s pathetic.” She stood, brushing off her skirt.

  “Did you just call me a pussy?” He seemed like he couldn’t actually fathom that would happen to him.

  She tilted her head. “I suppose I did.”

  “Fair enough. They say you are what you eat.” He nodded sagely.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, buddy. You need to get this cuff off of me right now.”

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  “Excuse me?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “No. Can. Do.” He shrugged, flashing her a big grin that bared all of his sharp, pointy shark’s teeth. “It’ll come off once we’re married.”

  “Like hell.”

  “You’ll just have to wear it until then. Could be forever. I know you’re a stubborn woman.”

  “What about when you die? Death till us part, right?” She looked around the grounds for something sharp. “We’re about to find out.”

  Instead of being angry with her, he just laughed. “By hell, that just turns me on, little witch.”

  She didn’t want to admit it, but she kind of liked that he wasn’t afraid of her. So many of the younger warlocks were. They all knew what happened to her former husband and they lived in mortal fear of offending her. Even in bed. She asked them to pull her hair and fuck her hard, she got a worthless tug and a tepid thrust.

  It wouldn’t be like that with Enoch.

  But his ego was intolerable.

  So was this…cuff thing… whatever it was. How dare he just slap it on her without her consent and assume she’d follow along happily down the primrose path to his nest in hell.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  She might actually have to kill him to get this godsdamned thing off her wrist.

  “That rabbit punch didn’t turn you on.”

  Enoch, for a single moment, looked bashful. Not an expression anyone ever wanted to see on a goblin.

  Holy fucknuggets! It had turned him on. “Oh, it did?”

  “Where did you learn to hit?”

  “I’ve been taking up some MMA. One never knows when one is going to have a cuff slapped on one’s wrist to basically rape their magick, do they?” She stared at him.

  He frowned. “I’m not… no. You called for me. I answered.”

  He looked genuinely confused.

  “Okay, see… that’s not how this works. I told you time and again, I was talking to the movie.”

  “But you meant me,” he responded stubbornly refusing to see her point.

  “You’re exhausting. No, I didn’t mean you.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble of flying monkeys, but you had to. That’s how magick works.”

  She turned her witchy gaze inward and searched herself. Had she meant him?

  Oh fucking bloody hell.

  She had.

  He was a terrible choice for a weekend fling. Hence why her brain, and witchy bits had chosen him. He promised to be excitement.

  “Well, shit.”

  “See?”

  “Oh, wipe that smug expression off your pasty face.” She smiled when she saw he was insulted. “You know every now and then we all think about a little bit of strange. That dirty fantasy that you just have to make forbidden so it’s hot. That’s all it was. It doesn’t mean I actually want to sleep with you.”

  “Of course you do. But it’s more than that. You’re my mate.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Yes, very much like hell.” He grinned. “Just like back at Academy.”

  “If you so much as touch my hair now, I’ll turn your penis into a snake.” He’d turned her braids into snakes and the whole class had called her Medusa for two years.

  He crossed his arms across his broad chest. “After you see what my penis can do for you, I doubt that very much.” He studied her for a moment. “Maybe I’m going about this all wrong.”

  “To say the least. The very least.” She stood, with her legs apart, giving herself a sturdy base in case she had to physically restrain him again.

  “I’m not just being perverse, witch. You really are my mate. I knew it back at Academy. I couldn’t let anyone know because you would’ve been in danger.”

  “You’re so high right now, I don’t even…”

  “How did you not pick up on that?” He rolled his eyes.

  “That whole he teases you because he likes you thing is misogynist and teaches women and girls that abuse is something they should expect from someone they love and it’s bullshit.”

  “For fuck’s sake. If my brother put an ax through my face when I was an infant, what do you think he would’ve done to you? That was the best I could do at fifteen, Eleanor.”

  The way he said her name made her witchy bits flutter. She didn’t care for her reaction. She didn’t wan
t to have it.

  “Pardon me if I think you’re full of shit. You don’t get to just come back after hundreds of years and suddenly all the terrible things you did to me don’t matter.”

  “Why not? Like you said, it was hundreds of years ago.”

  “I still think is another trick, okay?”

  “Why do you think that demon was so quick to take you ex and asked nothing from you, not even balancing out the favor he still owes you?”

  “You’re lying.”

  Enoch shrugged. “You can ask him.”

  “I will. But in the meantime, take this fucking cuff off my arm.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. You just won’t.”

  “I can’t take it off.” He looked away from her. “But I could remove the sigil that binds your magick.”

  “Then do that.”

  “I don’t know, I kind of don’t want to be turned into a pile of shit.”

  “That implies you’re not alre—” She cut herself off. Eleanor knew she’d gather more goblins with honey. Or maybe just turning down the flow of venom. “Okay.” She smoothed her hands down the length of her dress. “I think I’ve been very patient with you, but how about if I promise not to turn you into a pile of fecal matter?”

  “There are worse things.” He put his finger to his chin, as if imagining them.

  “Yeah, like being married to you.” She pinched her mouth closed. “Okay, that wasn’t nice. I’m so used to saying nasty things to you, it’s ingrained in me. I won’t say I didn’t mean it, because… well… hundreds of years of this. And all the nights I went to bed crying because you were so mean to me.”

  That seemed to pierce him more than anything nasty she said to him.

  “You cried?” His shoulders slumped.

  He seemed to be very serious about this whole mate thing. There was part of her that was sure it was all a trick. This wasn’t something she’d put past him. But she’d read about goblin mating ceremonies, or weddings, as the other supe folk tended to call them. Cuffs were usually involved—of the jewelry variety like he’d put on her, not the law enforcement variety.

  “Well, not that I ever wanted you to know that.”

  “I guess I should’ve told you. But it had already gone so far, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “So, say I buy this pile of orc shit you’re trying to feed me with a spoon. Why is now the time you don’t have to protect me anymore?”

  “Uh, hello? Have you met you? You’re terrifying.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.” She cocked her head to the side.

  “My brother is dead. So are all of the other goblins who’d try to take my throne. The populace is demanding I take my mate by Christmas. It’s not an unreasonable request.”

  She supposed not, but… “You don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

  “It’s a new thing. They like the snow, the presents, and the food. It’s close enough to the solstice.” He shrugged.

  “Oh and I suppose I’m supposed to give them their white Christmas?”

  “Blue, actually. They like blue snow.”

  “That’s… different.”

  He shrugged, as if he were helpless against their wants and needs.

  “Why not kidnap a sugarplum fairy?”

  “I don’t want to kidnap anyone, if we’re being honest.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

  “That’s not how I do things.”

  Eleanor looked down meaningfully at the cuff on her wrist.

  “Ah, well. I knew there was no chance in all the hell dimensions you’d give me the time of day without it.”

  “So I gave you the time of day. What will you do if my answer is still no?”

  “I really don’t know,” he answered her. “That never really fed into the equation. You called for the Goblin King, and here I am.”

  She nodded. “Well, you don’t know that if I’m to give them a blue Christmas, you have to take the cuff off.”

  “In the Goblin realm, you can’t cast any magick against me without the cuff.” He grinned.

  “Even if all of this worked for me, the whole being your mate thing—” At one time, she would have shuddered with disgust, but she was coming around to the idea of having a good one off with him. “I can’t possibly leave the pack alone. This is what I do. I’m dedicated to the health and well-being of the Woolven Pack.”

  “I know. So too would the Goblin nation, if you become my queen.”

  She arched a brow. “Oh really? Would I have access to the goblin armies?”

  “If you prove you can lead them.”

  “I’ll consider it. But let’s get down to business. First things first, before this goes any farther. Take. Off. The. Cuff.”

  “You swear on your Woolvens you won’t turn me into a pile of shit?”

  “I swear. Goddess.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, part of your appeal was that you weren’t scared of me.”

  “There’s scared, and then there’s common sense.” He took her hand.

  She didn’t hate that either. His skin looked like it would’ve been cold, but it wasn’t. It was hot. So hot, his touch practically burned her.

  “There. You still have to wear the cuff, but your magick is free.”

  She didn’t feel any different, but when she thought about casting dark spells, electricity crackled around her fingertips. “Thank you. That feels much better.”

  “So. Details. You’re going to be my Goblin queen?”

  “Oh my goddess. Slow down. Take me to dinner or something. Woo me, fucker.”

  Enoch cocked his head to the side. “I…okay. I’m not sure how to go about it.”

  “For fuck’s sake. How would you woo a goblin lady?”

  “I’d throw her over my shoulder and fuck her against the wall. Then I’d bite her neck and mark her as mine. But I don’t think you’d enjoy that.”

  Oh, maybe she would. If he could actually throw her over his shoulder and… Her face might have gotten just a little warm. Along with the rest of her.

  “That might not suck, but witches like that later. Write me a poem or something. Some flowers. Some rare night-blooming flower from your realm. Or you know, dinner. We could do dinner.”

  He nodded slowly. “Dinner could be good. Do you like Thai?”

  “Okay, so you mean going to a restaurant, right? Not like grabbing some Thai villagers and…”

  “We don’t do that anymore. A restaurant.” He smiled at her.

  “Okay. Tonight?”

  She was probably certifiable. What the hell was she thinking?

  Eleanor stole another glance at the goblin king. Well, he was royalty. He had all of his teeth—they were very sharp. He had armies. Gold. Lots of resources to benefit the Woolven Pack.

  He also was hotter than sin with his hard, sculpted jaw. His pretty spider web hair. And not to mention the gun show. Yeah, rolling around naked with him could be fun.

  “Tonight, it is then.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

  “Fair warning. If I find out this is a long con, I’m going to make you wish I’d only turned into a living shit pile. I mean, I’m talking Carrie level epic of crazy.”

  “My lovely Eleanor, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He flashed her a toothy grin that she kind of liked.

  She found she was getting slightly obsessed with all of those teeth.

  Eleanor realized that she had a problem. What else could one call it when thinking about banging the goblin king?

  “So,” a voice drawled from behind her. “Do you think he’s going to wear the loincloth when he shows up to take you out to dinner?” Parker, the baby Woolven said.

  Not that he was actually a baby, he was just the youngest and the most irresponsible. Of course, they were all babies to her.

  “You need to mind your business.” She turned on him, wearing her grandmotherly face.

  “That bothers Drew, not me. I don’t care if you
look like you’re baking cookies or turning tricks. It’s all still Westwood.”

  She grinned at him. “Young pup, you better keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  “Don’t I know it, ma’am.” He nodded. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

  “That was Enoch.”

  “The goblin king?” Parker whistled. “You’ve got balls, Westwood. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “He has armies that could strengthen the Woolven power base.”

  “That he does. But you don’t have to have sex with the guy just to protect us. I’d like to think we’re a little bit more self-sufficient.”

  “Turns out I might be his mate. He’s the only prospect I’ve had in a hundred years who isn’t terrified of me. So, I thought what the hell.” She shrugged and conjured a molasses cookie and handed it to him.

  Parker accepted it gratefully and popped it into his mouth. “What the hell, indeed.”

  3

  Eleanor Westwood wasn’t usually at a loss for what to wear.

  But tonight was about new experiences.

  Noah, Drew’s son was hanging out with her on the floor, chewing on a piece of mammoth rawhide in his pup form.

  “Noah, which one do you like?” She held up a dress with skulls on it and one with a delicate flower patter.

  He barked at the one with the flowers.

  Of course he did.

  She sometimes she felt like her clothing choices were an armor. Like if she pasted enough skulls on everything, people would get the whole nature’s warning label thing—do not touch.

  Except, maybe it worked better than she thought. She hadn’t been touched in a really long time.

  “I guess you’re right.” She looked down at the mess he’d made on the floor. “Why don’t you change back into your human form?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll take you to play in the mud pits with the gnomes,” she offered.

  He was suddenly a very naked little boy again with a chew toy in his mouth. She held out her hand.

  “Give Westwood the chew toy. Come on, now.” She wiggled her fingers.

  He opened his mouth and dropped it into her hand.

  “That’s a good boy. I think we need to talk about school.”