by Erin Johnson
"Hey!" Hank barked.
The figures doing the beating froze, then looked up, their faces illuminated by the moonlight. Teenage boys blinked at us, their faces flushed and chests heaving.
"Run!" The voice cracked and the boys took off as Hank and I ran forward. Hank chased after them, while I crouched next to the moaning body.
"Hey there. Are you okay? We're here to help— Oh! Sam!" My friend rolled over onto his back and I let out a little whimper. "Sam!"
10
Fireworks
Cracks spiderwebbed both lenses of Sam's glasses, and the frame was bent at an odd angle. Blood stuck to the side of his face from a wound around his temple, and tears streaked through the mud and dirt on his cheeks. He let out a sob and panic racked through my chest, making my hands flutter.
"Sam." I looked up and yelled for Hank. "Sam's hurt!" I turned back to my friend. "How bad is it? Can you sit up?"
Sam sniffled, but nodded. I grabbed his hand, placing my other hand behind his shoulder. I helped guide him upright.
Hank jogged up and dropped to a crouch beside us. His chest heaved and though his face looked murderous, he said in a kind voice, "Sam, can you walk? Let's get you out of the cold."
Sam kept his milky blue eyes on the ground, but nodded again and Hank and I lifted him up, one of us under each arm. The warming spell enveloped him, and after we'd gone a little ways his teeth stopped chattering. I spotted the three teenagers, frozen like statues midstride running away from us.
"Uh—not that I care that much, but are they okay?" I jerked my head to the three boys.
Hank's face clouded over, his dark brows dropping heavy over his eyes. "They're fine. Just getting what they deserve."
We hobbled on, supporting a whimpering Sam. I kept my voice low. "Just to be clear, that's not death, right?"
Hank closed his eyes tight and shook his head. He looked like he was fighting back a grin. "No. I'm just leaving them immobilized until we can get Sam inside and find their parents."
I nodded. "Sounds like a plan." I frowned as we moved on, Sam's left leg nearly buckling every time he took a step with it. I just wanted to wrap Sam in a protective bubble and stick him in my pocket for safekeeping. It broke my heart that he'd been hurt like this. "Sam? Why did those boys attack you?"
His mouth quavered.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk right now." I held his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
"They…. I had too much punch. They wanted me to sssshow them how to danccce like me."
I pinched my eyes shut tight. God, teenagers could be such jerks. I recalled Bridger bullying everyone. All right, not just teenagers. People could be such jerks.
"And when they couldn't get it quite right, I told them—I told them they ssshouldn't feel bad. That I was a sssnake ssshifter."
My chest clenched up and I bit my tongue. My first instinct had been to chide Sam for telling them what he was. He knew the world didn't look kindly on shifters and that it wasn't safe. But then I felt ashamed. How terrible to chide someone for simply talking about who they are.
"And then they sssaid they wanted to ssshow me sssomething out back. And—and—" He let out a sob and hung his head. I had to dip low to catch his words. "And they ssstared hitting me and calling me 'dirty ssshifter' and other namesss and when I fell, they kicked me and—" He cried in earnest and tears welled in my eyes.
"Sam. That's so horrible. I'm so sorry."
"Sam, you don't deserve that." Hank's voice came out gentle, but his eyes told another story. I wasn't sure Hank was actually seeing the snow and the trees and the drive in front of us that led to the front of the mansion. The streetlamps flickered and the snow stopped falling.
I took a shaky breath as the warming spell went into overdrive and the heat made my head spin. "Hank. Hank? Hank!"
He blinked and the heat eased up; the snow fluttered onto our hair and shoulders and the streetlamps shone bright again. "I'm sorry." Hank blinked again and looked shaken.
Heck, I was shaken. Sam's story wrenched at my heart, so I could understand, but Hank needed to get a handle on that anger. Within a few minutes we had Sam inside and a couple of maids fussing over him in a quiet room, casting healing spells over him and his glasses and torn clothing. I found my friends and everyone rushed to Sam's side, while Hank sought out Lady Cordelia to help him find the boys' parents. He also insisted on involving the police, and was dismayed to hear that due to the minimal crime in Wee Ferngroveshire, the police force consisted of three elderly men in their eighties who'd gone to bed hours ago. But Hank found his personal guards and decided they'd be more intimidating. While Hank helped see that justice was done, Annie and Yann volunteered to take Sam back to the inn. Physically he was all patched up and shook his head when we asked if he was still in pain. But he barely spoke and wouldn't lift his eyes. My heart grew tight at the thought that the greatest wounds to poor Sam would be emotional.
Maple, Wiley, Rhonda, Francis, and I all moved to leave too, but Annie and Yann said they were old and ready to go home anyway, and that we should stay so we could report back to them the punishments the hooligans got. I thought they would help Sam out, one under each arm like Hank and I had done, but Yann, bear of man that he was, just squatted down and hefted Sam up in his arms like a baby. Just as they were carrying Sam out, Amelia burst into the room, gray eyes wild.
"I just heard—what happened? Oh Sam." She threw her arms around him. Though normally fastidious and always decked out in pure white, she seemed to not care in the least that her fur-trimmed ivory dress was now covered in mud splotches from Sam's stained sweater vest. "Who did this?" Her eyes blazed as she looked around the room. "I will murder them."
I didn't doubt it. Her clenched fists trembled at her sides.
"Prince Harry's dealing with it, dear." Annie patted her shoulder. "And don't fret, we're taking Sam back to the inn for a hot bath and I've told him I'll whip him up whatever he wants—hot chocolate? Pie pops?"
Sam said nothing, and Amelia's brows drew up in the center. "I'm coming too."
"But yooo've got yer networking ta dooo." Yann patted her shoulder.
"Screw networking. Sam's hurt." Amelia held the door open for Yann and then grabbed a maid by the arm. "I want to know each spell you performed on him and the contact information for the town's doctor in case his condition worsens. Then I need to know the names of the perpetrators and—"
The door swung shut on their conversation, muting the murmur of chatter and the distant strains of the string quartet. Rhonda sat slumped with her head against Francis's shoulder, the other arm of his jacket dangling empty at his side. Maple hugged herself, her brows pinched together, and Wiley paced the room. I stood stock-still, the throbbing creeping back into my feet. I felt like I'd been hit with a sleigh, my whole body aching with fatigue. I let out a weary sigh. "Well. We're a sad lot."
Maple lifted her head. "I know Yann and Annie told us we should stay and it's not midnight yet, but… I think I'd like to go back to the inn."
I nodded. "Me, too. Check on Sam, get in my pajamas." Sleep forever, I wanted to add.
"Even I, a creature of the night and an eternal being, feel the heavy pull of sleep tonight." Francis yawned like a cat, needle-like fangs bared. Considering he hardly ever spoke like Dracula, I figured he must be really tired.
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep till I pummel those guys' faces in," Wiley growled.
I lifted a brow. "While I appreciate the sentiment, they were like, fifteen, so maybe best not to beat children. They may not like that in Wee Ferngroveshire."
Wiley gave me a blank stare. "At fifteen, I got plenty of pummelings. And I deserved at least half of them."
"Right. I'm going to get Iggy. Then let's grab Hank and skedaddle."
Rhonda lifted a fist in the air and mumbled, "Yo ho, Bruma."
I raised a fist and turned and headed back to the party. I threaded through the crowd. We weren't the only ones fading.
Men and women of all ages sat slumped in couches and chairs, or leaned into the corners, their eyes half-lidded.
"Is it midnight yet?" an old woman groaned.
I glanced at the grandfather clock. It showed only nearly eleven. Yeah. Definitely time to go. I'd never make it to midnight at this rate.
I found Iggy still in his lantern on the mantle, the candle flame he had a crush on in the golden stick beside him. Someone had lit a few little votive candles among the garland.
"Hey buddy, we're taking off." I thumbed toward the entrance.
He sprouted a flame arm and waved me closer. "But Etna and I are hitting it off. Do we really have to leave now?"
I sighed, wondering if there was some way someone else could bring him back to the inn, but I couldn't think of anything. I shook my head. "I'm sorry." I couldn't help but smile at Iggy's crushed look. "I didn't realize flames could be romantically interested." How cute.
Iggy puffed himself up brighter. "Not just interested."
I frowned. "Hm?"
"Look." He swept his little flame arm along the mantle while Etna grinned impishly beside him atop her candlestick. "We have merged our flames and lit five little baby candles. Imogen, I'm a father now."
My stomach dropped as a thousand questions raced through my mind. "What! How—but you—I don't—where are we gonna—"
Iggy and Etna burst into hysterics. Little tears squished out Iggy's tightly shut eyes and sizzled at his base. His whole flame shook with laughter. "I—I told you she'd fall for it."
Etna appeared to be wheezing.
I dragged my palms down my face, not caring if it smeared my mascara into black waterfalls. "I can't believe you did that." I shook my head. "You are…." I searched for the right word. "You are rotten." I couldn't help but smile a little.
"But seriously, we do have to go." I lowered my voice. "Some boys attacked Sam."
Iggy immediately sobered up. "You want me to burn someone?"
"I'll help!" Etna chimed in cheerfully.
Were all magical flames trouble?
"No, thank you. They were technically children and Wiley's already offered to pummel them."
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be happy to burn them. Or at least all their hair off."
I cocked my head to the side. "That, I'll take into consideration."
I bid goodnight to Etna, lifted Iggy's lantern, and stepped toward the foyer to meet the rest of our gang, but my way was blocked by King Bridger, the Malevolent. I froze, afraid he'd spot me and command me to rub his feet or something equally heinous. But the faces of his bearers glowed with jubilation and fervor as they hauled him toward a giant, gilded gold cauldron that I hadn't noticed before by the drinks table. They must have brought it in recently. Since it was the size of a couch, I figured I'd have remembered it if I'd seen it before. It bubbled and frothed as mist poured over the sides and floated along the floor.
"Hey! Hey!" Bridger gripped the arms of his wooden chair and shouted down at the men who carried him toward the cauldron. "I command you put me down! It's not even midnight yet!"
"Yeah, well, it feels like it's well past it and I think we're all ready to sacrifice our king," the governor grumbled.
The crowd cheered and even those who'd been drowsing perked up. The partygoers pressed tightly together around Bridger and clamored around the cauldron. The tightly packed bodies cut us off from the foyer. I turned to watch the dunking, figuring it'd be cathartic, at least. I shifted on my feet. Though, I really just wanted to get home and get out of these heels.
The men hoisted Bridger off their shoulders, and even as they prepared to toss him in, he still shouted orders.
"On the count of three, men!" the governor barked. "One! Two! Three!"
With a toss, Bridger flew into the cauldron, drenching everyone in the splash zone. The governor's errand boy, Dylan, stood nearby, as did Ria, beside the giant platter of glowing ice cubes for the frozen pond punch. Ria shrieked and stumbled back, drenched, while beside her, Dylan looked down at his sopping clothing and let out an angsty sigh. But everyone else seemed overjoyed. I plugged one ear with a finger as the cheering grew deafening and grunted in annoyance as the dancing picked up again, and partygoers jostled and bumped me. I needed to get out of here. I made my way through the thick, boisterous crowd and had nearly reached the doorway when booms and pops sounded from outside, making me jump.
"What?"
"Were those fireworks?"
The dancing paused and Bridger stopped flailing in the cauldron as he tried, unsuccessfully, to climb out.
BOOM! POP POP POP!
Flashes of green, red, and white illuminated the windows.
"It is fireworks!"
"But it's not time yet."
"Who cares?"
"Quick, outside!"
"Sal!" Lady Cordelia shouted, over the clambering toward the foyer. "I told you to adjust the clock. How could this have happened?"
I glanced over my shoulder as the little maid hung her head. "I—I don't know. I did, mum. I must have been off by an hour, but I checked it twice, I thought—"
I lost her words as the crowd jostled me forward into the hall, out to the foyer, and onto the wide porch. Great bursts of light zoomed and exploded across the sky. I spotted Hank around the side of the house with three shivering boys being scolded by three sets of parents. The adults marched the boys off, probably to their homes. Good—would've been better if they'd been off to jail for the night, though. Home wasn't enough justice for how much they'd hurt and traumatized Sam, as far as I was concerned. Hank looked up at the crowd gathered on the porch and I waved till I caught his eye. He gave me a tight-lipped smile and trudged his way over. He stomped the snow from his shoes, then came up beside me and gave my hand a discreet squeeze.
"Justice doled out?"
He huffed out his nose. "Yeah. I suppose. Their parents took it seriously at least, promised to ground them and make them do community service." He shrugged. "We can talk to Sam tomorrow and see if he wants to press charges, though it doesn't sound like the police here are much inclined to do their jobs."
I grinned. "Wow. Just like back home." Inspector Bon was the worst. Though, now that I thought about it, I was confident he'd make sure the boys were properly lectured and annoyed to the point they never wanted to deal with the law again.
We stared up at the fireworks for a while, the light playing beautifully over Hank's handsome face, with his large, straight nose and strong jaw. He caught me staring and grinned. "What?"
I smiled back and bit my lips. "Did I tell you Iggy's a father now?"
"What!"
Iggy and I giggled, drawing stares from the partygoers packed tightly around us.
"We'll leave when the fireworks are over?"
Hank nodded.
"We just have to find Maple, Wiley, Francis, and Rhonda. The others went with Sam to the inn already."
Hank sighed. "I wish I could go with you."
"Oh yeah!" My heart sunk. "I forgot you're staying here tonight."
Iggy, dangling in the lantern from my arm, clicked his tongue. "Better get used to it. Once Hank's married, you'll be spending many, many nights alone."
I narrowed my eyes and tried to ignore the burn of annoyance that flushed across my chest. Instead I plastered on a smile. "Not alone. I'm sharing a room with Maple. We'll stay up late—well, even later, and chat. It'll be fun."
Iggy rolled his eyes.
Hank shook his head. "I plan on sneaking upstairs and collapsing in my bed the second you all leave."
"You party animal."
After the grand finale, as the bright lights crackled and popped away, the first revelers shuffled back inside, while we lingered.
"There's Maple." I sunk back down on my heels, and pointed across the covered porch full of people to the top of her golden curls, the only part of her visible. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if I'd get a chance to give Hank one last kiss good night before we left. Maybe not, wi
th so many people around. As the crowd thinned, my eyes landed on something on the wooden planks of the porch. I crouched down and lifted a little slip of paper with the name Nancy Whitefall written on it. Hm. I turned it over, but the back was blank. It must have fallen out of the hat of names earlier… though the butler had made them all vanish before he placed the hat on Bridger's head and crowned him king.
My thoughts were interrupted by a hair-raising shriek, followed by shouts and screams. Without a word, Hank and I dashed inside on the tail end of the jostling crowd. We followed the screams into the parlor, me holding Hank's jacket with one hand while he shouldered his way through. A woman slumped in a chair, her eyelids fluttering while a man fanned her. Another man vomited into a silver wastebasket. My heart thumped in my chest with dread as to what I was about to see. Should we turn back and run? A shock of adrenaline jolted through me—what if it was Horace?
"Hank." My voice came out a whisper, so I tugged at his jacket and tried again, louder. "Hank!"
He stopped short and I smacked into the back of him.
"Oh!" He grunted in surprise.
I peeked around him. Iggy demanded, "Hold me up! I want to see something besides everyone's rumps."
I dutifully lifted Iggy, my eyes transfixed on the image before me. The huge, golden cauldron had frozen; a solid layer of ice, smooth and glowing blue, covered the surface. The silver tray that'd held the magic ice cubes for the frozen pond punch lay turned over on the ground next to it, a few cubes melting on the rug. But most must have landed in the cauldron, because tiny skaters made of enchanted ice zigzagged the surface in lazy loops. And underneath the ice, hands pressed up against it, eyes locked open but unseeing, floated Bridger—dead.
11
Baking at Midnight
I flopped onto my side, throwing the heavy quilt off me. I couldn't sleep—couldn't get the image of Bridger's wide-eyed face, dead below the ice, out of my mind. The enchanted little skaters crisscrossing over him made the whole thing even more macabre. I huffed through my nose. Apparently, not everyone found it as disturbing. I'd overheard Beau's parents talking behind their hands, all aflutter at the excitement of the evening. It seemed no one had ever died at their normal Bruma Eve parties. How exciting for them. And Eddy Kinn, the bald bookie, had stalked off, growling about getting the money owed him from somebody.
