Kiss of Christmas Magic: 20 Paranormal Holiday Tales of Werewolves, Shifters, Vampires, Elves, Witches, Dragons, Fey, Ghosts, and More

by Eve Langlais

  “Run,” said Vivian. “Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

  Gretchen didn’t have to be told twice. Trent had just turned into a wolf before her very eyes, and she was so stunned, she couldn’t put a coherent thought together. But as she moved away from her stepsister, the wolf crouched and growled.

  Vivian yelled, “No!”

  But it was too late.

  The wolf leapt.

  Chapter Four

  GRETCHEN REARED BACK as the werewolf lunged at her. Vivian pushed her aside, and she flew backwards, landing hard on her back. Huffing and puffing, she rolled to all fours and pushed to her feet.

  When she turned around, a second werewolf had appeared. Beautiful white fur shone in the moonlight. This wolf was smaller, more graceful. Vivian. It had to be her. Holy crap. Her stepsister was a werewolf, too.

  The white wolf easily dodged Trent’s clumsy attacks. He let his anger dictate his action. He relied on rage instead of strategy to win the fight, and it blinded him to anything but violence. He didn’t realize that Vivian was leading him away from Gretchen. When she jumped up onto the boulders that Gretchen had tried to hide between, Trent followed. He was unprepared for Vivian’s snap at his throat. He yelped and fell to the ground, an ominous crack silencing him forever.

  Vivian leapt off the stones, and Gretchen watched in horrified amazement as her stepsister transmogrified into a naked human female. Vivian leaned down and felt the neck of the wolf and grimaced. “Shit.”

  “Is he … dead?”

  “Yes. We have to go,” said Vivian. She seemed utterly unconcerned about her nudity. Gretchen followed her in a daze, body aching and mind reeling. They soon arrived at Vivian’s little Mazda Miata. “Get in, Gretch.”

  Vivian popped open the Miata’s trunk and slipped on a T–shirt dress. Gretchen wanted to ask questions, but the adrenaline that had kept her upright and fighting suddenly dissipated. Before she could utter a word, the exhaustion overtook her and she passed out.

  “TRENT BLACKTHORNE?” HARRY asked. “Are you sure?”

  Vivian had called her father on the drive home and told him everything. He’d met them in the driveway and carried a weary Gretchen to her bedroom. She slipped beneath the covers, but now that she was safe at home, she couldn’t sleep.

  Vivian was a werewolf.

  And her stepfather Harry knew.

  No, it was more than that. He was one, too.

  She left the bedroom and walked down the darkened hallway to Viv’s room. The door was cracked, and she heard voices. She paused, cocking her head, and listened.

  “I had to, Dad. They were going to hurt Gretchen.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “They’ll ask for a blood debt,” Vivian said. “I killed their son.”

  “We’ll deal with that. I’ll talk to the alpha of the Shadows. We’ll pledge to them and seek sanctuary at their compound.”

  “What about Gretchen? And Ellen?”

  “The only way to protect them is to send them away. They’re better off in the human world without us.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Don’t be, Vivian. I’m proud of you. Blackthorne is a rogue, and he raised his sons to be vicious. You protected our family.” Harry kissed his daughter’s head. “Get some rest. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Gretchen snuck back into her room and quietly shut her door. She leaned against it, her heart squeezing. She’d ruined everything by going to that stupid party. Now, her whole family would pay the price for that one horrible mistake.

  She slid down to the floor, pressed her head to her knees, and sobbed.

  Chapter Five

  “FORMULA, RAFE?”

  “Wolf likes it.”

  The shopkeeper laughed. “You really indulge that old coyote.”

  “She’d be offended, Tom. I wouldn’t call her a coyote to her face.”

  “Believe me, I won’t.” He shook his head. “You’re the only fella I know who’d befriend a full–grown wolf. She ain’t exactly a puppy. She might hide a mean streak.”

  “Some would say the same about me.” Rafe put the rest of the groceries on the counter, along with the diapers.

  Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Wolf suffering from incontinence?”

  “They’re good for cleaning windows.”

  “You never bought ‘em before.”

  “I read about it in some magazine.”

  “Like Parents?”

  “Pretty sure it was Guns and Ammo.”

  Rafe avoided Tom’s skeptical gaze. For the zillionth time he’d wished he’d been able to go to Vegas where anonymity was guaranteed. The storm had left him little choice; the main road off the mountain was closed and would be until the plows cleared it. He wanted to hurry, but he couldn’t draw any more of Tom’s attention. His cop’s instincts warned him to tread carefully. He’d avoid questions until he gathered more information about the situation with the kid. He figured she was safe in Wolf’s care for twenty minutes–especially when he’d discovered the little girl was a shifter. Getting hungry had made her cranky enough to sprout ears and a snout. It was no wonder Wolf was so attracted to the babe. Her mothering impulse was strong.

  Since last night, he’d been asking himself a troubling question: Why was the daughter of werewolves abandoned in a tote?

  He didn’t have a cell phone or a landline. On purpose. That way people wouldn’t call him and say things like, “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” or “Why don’t you come out with us? “ Then there was Mom’s favorite: “You have to let go of the past, so you can have a future.”

  As soon as the road was opened, he would drive into town and go to his sister’s vet clinic. At the very least, his youngest sibling Lisa would know some contacts in the local packs. She’d treated the Shadow Pack’s beta not too long ago–maybe the Shadows were looking for the baby. He didn’t want to think about the infant belonging to the Blood Pack. He couldn’t, in good conscience, hand over an innocent to those brawling, murdering bastards. Damn it all to hell. He had his reasons for moving into the cabin and staying away from everyone. Now, he had some little bundle of fluff re–opening old wounds and forcing him into the world he’d wanted to leave behind.

  “That’ll be twenty–seven dollars and four cents.”

  Rafe shook off his thoughts and opened his wallet. He paid with his debit card, said good–bye to Tom, and hurried to his Ford Bronco. He made it home in record time. Despite the snow, he shaved two minutes off the usual ten–minute drive. Wolf greeted him at the door then she returned to her protective spot, curling around the makeshift drawer crib. The baby still slept, but her blonde hair was wet and stuck straight up.

  He chuckled. “Wolf, you don’t have to clean her.”

  Wolf looked at him as if to say: What do you know? She stretched out her front paws, lay down, and closed her eyes.

  Rafe put away the groceries before he picked up the purple bag and examined it for the hundredth time looking for clues. Most of the baby’s clothes were hand–made; the name Kaylie was embroidered on the two sleepers. Stuffed into the tote were a bottle, a package of wipes, a pink pacifier, and diapers. Whoever put the kid inside had done so with care. The quantity of items suggested the trip was supposed to be a short one. The holes in the top … to ensure Kaylie could breathe. Obviously, the baby had been hidden.

  Why?

  Rafe believed that the mother had packed the tote and placed Kaylie inside it. The whole thing had a woman’s touch. He wondered if the parents were in the woods. Hurt? Dead? Werewolves could’ve easily tracked their child’s scent–at least before the storm had hit. It had put another foot of snow on the ground, and all traces of Wolf’s paw prints were gone. Any shifter trying to search by scent or tracks now would be shit out of luck.

  Rafe had been listening to the radio, but a missing baby hadn’t been reported. Either the parents didn’t want to rely on the human justice system, or they were dead. He didn’t own a te
levision–didn’t own too many amenities, preferring not to know what was going on outside his own four walls. But his rusty protective instincts had kicked into gear, thrumming with an intensity that set him on edge.

  “Damnation.” Rafe went to cabin’s lone closet and dragged the trunk out of it. He smiled as he unlocked the buckles. His wife’s garage–sale find–the ugliest piece of luggage he’d ever seen. Samantha had wanted to paint it and put it in the nursery. The trunk was the only reminder of his other life that he kept nearby. Everything else gathered dust in the detached garage fifty feet behind the cabin.

  He needed to find his police scanner. He removed the half–finished knitted blanket and hesitated. Pressing the soft scrap against his cheek, he closed his eyes. For the first time in a very long while, he let himself remember.

  “Look, honey!” Sam waved the blanket at him.

  He examined the crooked edges and smiled. “I think that color might blind our son.”

  “Daughter, smarty–pants.” She frowned, and, as always, he was drawn to the full curve of her lush mouth. “Is it too ugly, Rafe?”

  “Yes,” he answered. He leaned down and kissed her, loving the feel of her soft lips against his. “But it’s perfect. Just perfect.”

  Gripping the edge of the trunk, he stared down. His badge gleamed next to Sam’s picture. He tucked the badge under another box and picked up the framed photo. The glass had cracked; he traced the jagged line that crossed his wife’s face. With a sigh of regret, he tucked the photo under the scrap of baby blanket. Another minute of searching yielded his scanner, and he shut the lid. He wish could shut the lid on his memories as easily.

  Rafe put down the scanner and knelt beside Kaylie. Blonde lashes rested against peach cheeks. Her small chest rose and fell in relaxed sleep, chubby fists tucked under her chin. He resisted the urge to touch her, and instead, folded the blanket around her. Wolf must have found her right when she’d been abandoned. She hadn’t suffered from the cold.

  He stood and stretched, contemplating the possibility of a nap, but then Kaylie stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stuffed her fist into her mouth. Her grunts and suckling noises made him smile … until her lips puckered and she let out one helluva wail. Already Kaylie had taught Rafe this particular tune. He knew to check the diaper and warm a bottle.

  And he knew, much to his embarrassed delight, how to cuddle her while she ate.

  Chapter Six

  WOLF STOPPED, EARS pricked forward. A warning growl rumbled from her, and Rafe stroked her head. “Easy, girl. Let’s check it out.”

  Kaylie, bundled in her pink hat, mittens, and frilly coat, rested inside Rafe’s zipped parka. Her head barely peeked out from the top. Rafe adjusted his arm, fitting it more securely under her bottom. She wiggled a little before settling against him, and her soft baby’s breath tickled his neck as she slept.

  A bottle and a pacifier were tucked in his pocket, ready to go if Kaylie woke. She’d spent the last two hours exhausting him, so he hoped her nap would be a long one.

  Rafe followed Wolf deeper into the woods. He knew they were heading toward a bend in the highway. About half a mile from the road, Wolf stopped and cocked her head. She went still, suddenly alert and watchful.

  Distant voices broke the silence.

  Rafe and Wolf crept closer until Rafe could clearly hear the conversation.

  “It’s been two days, Walt. That kid doesn’t have a chance.”

  “Gretchen Myers got her brains scrambled in the accident. She probably doesn’t even have a kid.”

  “Yeah? The child harness in the back seat has been chewed through.”

  “Jesus Christ and all the saints. Please tell me an animal didn’t drag a baby out of the car.”

  Rafe peeked through the brush. Uniformed cops combed the area. His gaze traveled to the crashed gray sedan. It bore immense damage. The foot of new snow deposited by the storm obscured any skid marks, blood, and footprints that might have been left behind. Even with the road opened now, a tow truck wouldn’t risk the slick roads and deep embankment. No, the sedan would stay put for a while yet.

  The police were looking for Kaylie. All he had to do was step out, offer up the infant, and go on his way. Would they think he’d kidnapped her? He rolled his eyes. He knew too many people at Metro who’d laugh at the idea of him committing a crime. Something about this whole situation set his teeth on edge. He definitely wasn’t sold on the idea of giving a shifter baby to humans.

  The cop named Walt spoke. “We need to widen the search–get the dogs out here.”

  “Yeah,” said the other cop. “You know, maybe someone found her.”

  “If they did, they’ve kept her. Child services hasn’t logged any calls or had any drop–offs in last forty–eight hours.”

  Rafe frowned. Kaylie’s mom must be worried sick. Why else would a werewolf mother send the human police to look for Kaylie? Maybe he should just hand her over. Fighting his uncertainty, Rafe took a step forward, reaching out to part the bushes so he could walk into the clearing.

  Wolf snagged his coat sleeve with her mouth and tugged him backwards. He hesitated, looking down at his furry companion. She seemed to understand his reluctance, even if he didn’t. Her big brown eyes seemed to say, “Wait.”

  Wolf’s instincts were in sync with his, and that made the decision easier. He would find momma wolf and take the baby to her. He’d find out more about the situation before he gave up the little girl resting so sweetly against him, and return to his lonely, pathetic existence.

  AFTER THEY RETURNED to the cabin, Rafe put Kaylie into her temporary crib. Wolf curled around the drawer again, resuming her duties as primary protector. He didn’t want to think too long about what he had to do next. He hadn’t opened the garage since his family had filled it up with boxes and furniture from the Las Vegas home he’d once shared with his wife.

  He hurried out the back door and headed toward the garage. His boots crunched in the snow, and his breath clouded the air. His hands shook as he put the key into the padlock and removed it. The door squealed as it rolled up and revealed the well–preserved life of a widower.

  He found the car seat quickly. His mother and siblings had packed the garage for him, and his mother’s organizational skills had not gone to waste. All the nursery items had been put together. The car seat remained unboxed. He and Sam had taken it out in anticipation of bringing their child home in it.

  But Sam, and the baby she tried so hard to bring into the world, never came home.

  He shut the garage door and re–locked it. Then he hurried to the cabin. He had to admit that his grief no longer felt like the sharp blade of a new knife. When had the sting of memory become bearable? When had he allowed the gilded edge of his sorrow to dull to an occasional throb?

  Rafe gathered Kaylie’s things and stuffed them into the purple bag. He put the car seat in the Bronco and buckled Kaylie into the contraption with an ease that reminded him of his rusty longing to be a daddy. Wolf climbed in and sat next to the baby, licking the girl’s blonde curls. Kaylie cooed, her lips curling into tiny baby smiles as she delighted in Wolf’s attention.

  “C’mon, girl. You gotta stay here.” Wolf licked Kaylie’s face one last time, and with a whimper, she hopped out of the Bronco. He let her into the cabin and she curled around the drawer.

  “She’s not ours, Wolf.”

  Wolf gave a half–hearted bark and looked at him with a sad gaze. He took that to mean: I found her. She’s mine.

  Turning Kaylie over to her mother was breaking Wolf’s heart. And if Rafe was honest … it was breaking his, too.

  Chapter Seven

  RAFE DROVE CAREFULLY on the two–lane mountain road cursing all the impatient idiots who passed him or honked their horns. It took him more than an hour to get off the mountain, and he breathed a sigh of relief when they hit the open highway. Now it was a straight shot to Vegas. After they got to the outskirts of the city, he stopped at a roadside diner and used the
pay phone to call Summerlin Hospital, the nearest medical center to Mt. Charleston.

  “Gretchen Myers’ room, please.”

  “Just a moment, I’ll connect you.”

  Rafe hung up. He didn’t want to explain anything over the phone. It would be better to show up with Kaylie and answer Mrs. Myers’ questions face–to–face. She probably thought her baby was dead. The thought of Kaylie coming to harm squeezed his insides so tight he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t imagine the kind of agony her mother suffered as she wondered about the fate of her child.

  They arrived at the hospital.

  Rafe tried to smooth down Kaylie’s blonde hair, but several stubborn strands poked up. At least he wouldn’t have to explain wolf drool to a werewolf mother. With a sigh, he unhooked Kaylie and gathered her into his arms. He grabbed the purple bag and, battling the sense of dread settling into his gut, he walked into the lobby and asked for directions to Mrs. Myers’ room.

  He removed her mittens and tucked them into the tote. As they got into the elevator, he shifted Kaylie higher, and he felt her tiny hands press against his neck. They felt soft and sweet. Like butterfly kisses. He caught the smiles of an elderly couple sharing the elevator.

  The woman stared at the baby, her expression full of tenderness. She was human. A grandmother, if the scents of White Diamonds perfume and fresh baked cookies were any indication.

  “She’s your first baby, isn’t she, dear?”

  Rafe nodded as heat crept up into his face. Kaylie chose that moment to coo, her eyes open as she rested against the crook of Rafe’s neck.

  The couple chuckled. “Looks like she’s daddy’s girl,” said the man.

  The elevator stopped with a loud ding, and the doors opened. The couple exited with Rafe. He quickly said good–bye and hurried down the corridor to Mrs. Myers’ room.

  As he approached, he saw a man in a lab coat, a doctor perhaps, pause at the door. The dark–haired man covertly surveyed the hallway before entering. Rafe drew in the scent on the air. Werewolf. Instincts sharpened by both human and bear experiences alerted Rafe. Something didn’t feel right. He never ignored his gut feelings. He looked over his shoulder and spotted the elderly couple still shuffling down the hallway. In less than a second, he made the decision.