by Aimee Carter
It took me a moment to regain the ability to speak, and when I did, my voice came out as a croak. “You can’t cancel Christmas dinner.”
“I can, and I will,” he said. “And you will stay in your room tonight, do you understand?”
Did I understand? Was he crazy? “I’ll stay in my room under two conditions,” I said sharply. “One, after you’re done searching the manor, you let everyone have Christmas dinner. There should be plenty of time for both.”
His mouth twitched in annoyance, but he nodded. “Fine. Your second condition?”
I hesitated. There was more on the line than a happy holiday, and if he rejected it—but I had to at least try. “Two, you spend the evening with me. And enjoy it as much as you can. And,” I added, “stop acting so damn cranky all the time. It’s getting on my nerves.”
He didn’t answer for several moments, and when he did, he simply nodded again. But for a split second, I thought I saw the barest hint of a smile. “I will be here after the manor is secured. In the meantime, do not open any strange packages.”
As he walked out the door, he gestured for Ava to follow. Shrugging apologetically, she touched her new earrings and winked before following after him, leaving me alone in my suite. I sighed and collapsed on the bed, trying not to think about how long it would take them to search the manor—or how Ava had known to be suspicious of the poisoned present in the first place.
I spent the rest of the afternoon decorating my room in order to keep my mind off of what had happened. With the lights down low, the tree looked magnificent, and I’d even managed to get a star on top. But the best part was the strings of twinkling lights stretched out across my bedroom, and as I walked through it, I could see the colors reflected on my skin. It even smelled like sugar cookies, and all that was missing was music.
By the time I’d finished, I was convinced Henry wouldn’t show. It was dark out and so late that my stomach was rumbling, and no matter how many times I asked my guards, no one seemed to be willing to tell me when he was coming.
Expecting to spend Christmas alone, I changed into my pajamas and constructed a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the floor. As I settled down, however, I heard the door open. Henry entered, carrying a silver tray laden with savory food, and Cerberus and Pogo were hot on his heels. Silently he offered me a cup of hot chocolate.
I took the mug from him and sipped, spotting what looked like baklava on the tray. It smelled exactly like my mother used to make, and my mouth watered.
“As you missed dinner, I thought you might be hungry.” His tone was painfully neutral, as if he was making every effort to be polite, and he glanced uncertainly at my makeshift pile of blankets. “Is there room for one more?”
“Plenty,” I said, trying to sound inviting. “If sitting on the floor isn’t your thing, you can pull up a chair. It works almost as well.”
After hesitating, he sat down next to me, and I scooted over to make room. He shifted around, looking awkward, but finally he settled.
“Do you and your mother do this every year?” said Henry. “Gather your pillows and watch the lights?”
“Usually.” I took a sip of my cocoa. “She’s been in the hospital for Christmas for the past three years, but we always made do. Did you find anything while searching the manor?”
“No,” he said. “But the staff had their festivities, as promised.”
I nodded, and Henry was silent and tense beside me. But at least he was there. I stared at the tree until the lights burned into my eyes, and when I looked away, I could still see the pattern of colors. “What’s it like to be dead?”
I flushed when I realized what I’d blurted out, and the way he didn’t answer right away only made it worse. “I would not know,” he finally said. “I do not know what it is like to be alive, either.”
I pressed my lips together. Right. Kept forgetting that.
“But if you would like,” he said, “I could tell you about death.”
I glanced up at him. “What’s the difference?”
“Death is the process of dying. Being dead is what happens after death has occurred.”
“Oh.” I’d purposely ignored thoughts of my mother actually dying—whether it’d be painful, if there was a bright light, or if she’d even be aware of it. But Henry wouldn’t be speculating. “Please?”
He tentatively stretched out his arm, and to my surprise, he settled it around my shoulders. He was still stiff, but it was the most contact we’d had in weeks. “It is not as bad as mortals tend to think. It is much the same as going to sleep, or so I have been told. Even when a wound causes pain, it is very brief.”
“What—” I swallowed. “What happens after the going to sleep part? Is there a—a bright light?”
Henry at least had the grace not to laugh. “No, there is no white light. There are gates, however,” he added, giving me a meaningful look. Whatever he was trying to get me to understand didn’t sink in, however, and he gave up and told me. “The gates at the front of the property.”
I blinked. “Oh.” And then thought about it. “Oh. You mean this—”
“Sometimes, when they may be useful,” he said. “The vast majority of the time, they are sent into the beyond.”
“What’s the beyond?”
“The Underworld, where souls stay for eternity.”
“Is there a heaven then?”
His fingers slowly wrapped around my bare arm, and I automatically leaned against him. Maybe my mother had been right—maybe he’d been so distant because he was afraid I wouldn’t make it past Christmas. Or maybe he was just trying to comfort me. Either way, the contact was warm, and I craved it.
“Initially there were many different beliefs, so the realm was undefined,” he said, his voice taking on a clinical tone. “Then came more substantial religions, and with it formed Tartarus and the Elysian Fields, among others. From then on, as religions grew…” He paused, as if choosing his words very carefully. “The afterlife is whatever a soul wishes or believes it to be.”
The endless possibilities swam through my mind, making me dizzy. “Doesn’t that get complicated?”
“It does.” This time he smiled back. “Which is why I cannot rule alone. James has been helping me temporarily.”
My mood immediately turned sour. “If you can’t rule alone, then how is he supposed to if you fade?”
Henry shifted, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to pull away. I set my hand on his, and he stilled. “I do not know. If it comes to that, it will no longer be my concern. Given how he has acted about you, I would speculate he intends to ask you, but once the council rules, it will be final. If you do not pass for me, you will not pass for him.”
The possibility of James liking me enough to put up with me for eternity just like Henry was offering had never occurred to me, and I took a breath, trying to keep myself from fidgeting. Henry wasn’t necessarily right—James and I were just friends, if even that anymore. He knew that. They both did. “What would I do? I mean, if I pass—how does this work?”
“It is a job, as most else is,” said Henry, and I could see the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Much of it is making rulings in disputes, or when a soul is undecided, we help them come to a greater understanding. We do not interfere unless the soul believes it will be judged.”
“And what happens to them?” I said, trying to remember what my mother was. Methodist? Lutheran? Presbyterian? Would it matter?
“It depends solely on their belief structure,” said Henry. “If they believe they will be walking around in a human form, then that is what occurs. If they believe they will be nothing more than a ball of warmth and light, then so be it.”
“What if what they believe and what they want are two different things?”
“That is also where we come in.”
I was silent. The prospect of spending the rest of forever ruling over the dead seemed impossible, like a faraway thing I would never reac
h, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. I wasn’t doing this for the job or even for immortality. After seeing Henry, I couldn’t imagine how lonely forever could be, and I wasn’t looking forward to experiencing it.
“What if I can’t handle it?” I said. “What if I fail miserably and you have to find someone else?”
It was a long moment before he responded. “That is what the tests are for. I have already done my part in choosing you, and I believe you are capable of handling it. My brothers and sisters test you because with this task comes a great amount of responsibility, and there is no room for error. If you cannot do it, then you will not. It is simple.”
There was nothing simple about it, but I couldn’t focus on what would happen afterward while I still had to make it to spring. Even if I passed all of the tests, if the council didn’t like me, all of this speculation was pointless. I already had one vote against me with James. If they needed a unanimous ruling, it was already over.
“Henry?” I said quietly. He stared straight ahead at the tree. “You know I want to pass, right?”
“I concluded as much, yes, given you are still here.”
I ignored his sarcasm. His hand was warm underneath mine, and I squeezed it. “It isn’t only because of my mother. It’s because of you, too. I know you’ve been trying for a really long time, and I know I’m just another silly little girl trying to help out, and I know you think I’m going to fail, but—I like you, Henry, and I’m doing this for you, too, okay? I don’t want you to fade.”
Even though he wasn’t looking at me, I could see his lips twist into a mirthless smirk. “You could never be just another silly little girl,” he said. “I do not wish to influence you or make this more difficult on you than it already must be, but do not think I do not care about what happens to you, Kate. Perhaps it is impossible that anyone takes Persephone’s place, but if that is the case, it is out of no failure of your own. But if anyone is capable of it, I am certain it is you.”
“Then please don’t give up,” I said. “I’ll never be Persephone, and I know that, but—we could be friends. And you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”
Henry looked away, hiding his face completely from my view. But when he spoke, his voice was tight, as if he were struggling to keep it steady.
“I would very much like that,” he said, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and wriggled out of his grip. He didn’t look at me, but he did set his hand back in his lap.
“Can I give you my present now?” I said. “I promise it’s not poisoned.”
He rewarded my tasteless joke with a wry half smile. I untangled myself from the blankets, ducked underneath my bed to retrieve a large package wrapped in gold, and carried it over to him. To my surprise, there was a present where I’d been sitting moments before.
“Your gift,” he said. “Also not poisoned.”
“Thank you,” I said. I sat down and handed him his, but he set it aside as he watched me open mine. I pushed the silver wrapping paper away, revealing a plain box. Squinting in the low light, I pulled off the lid and pushed away the tissue paper, exposing a framed black-and-white photo.
I froze. It was my favorite picture of my mother and me, from when I was seven years old. We were in the middle of Central Park on my birthday, the exact spot where we met every night in my dreams, and we’d spread out an entire picnic, only to have it ruined by a large dog that had gotten loose from its owner. The only things that had survived were the cupcakes I’d helped her make.
In the picture, we sat in the middle of the mess that’d been our lunch, each holding a cupcake. Chocolate with purple frosting, I remembered, a smile tugging at my lips. She had her arms around me, and while we were both smiling, we weren’t looking at the camera. The owner of the dog had taken a number of photos of us to make up for ruining our picnic, and in the end, this had been the one that had spent the past eleven years framed on my bedside table.
But as I stared at it, I realized it wasn’t the same. It had depth to it, like the picture in Persephone’s room. A reflection, Henry had called it, but unlike the one with him and Persephone, this one wasn’t a hope or a wish. It was real.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Henry, I don’t—”
He held up a hand, and I fell silent. “Not until I’ve opened yours as well.”
I waited, my vision blurry, as he unwrapped the large box. It’d taken me four tries to get the wrapping right. Lifting the lid, he paused. “What is this?” he said, puzzled as he examined the blanket I’d meticulously decorated. I’d refused to let anyone else help me, even though I knew it would’ve taken days instead of weeks if I had.
“It’s the night sky,” I said, hugging my picture to my chest. “See the dots? They’re stars. I remembered what you said about the stars moving. You said they were different when you met Persephone, and—this is how they are now. When you met me.”
Henry studied the constellations I’d painstakingly arranged on the blanket, and he gently brushed his fingers across the one I recognized as the Maiden. Virgo. Kore.
“Thank you.” He looked at me with his eyes made of moonlight, and something had changed. The barrier that had been there all this time was gone, and for a moment he almost looked like a different person. “For everything. I have never received such a wonderful gift.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure I believe that.”
“You should.” He continued to run his hand across the fabric. “It has been a very long time since I’ve received a gift as extraordinary as you.”
Unable to look away, I stared at him, absorbing every detail of his face. With that barrier gone, it was almost as if I could see who he was underneath, someone kind and lonely and scared, who wanted nothing more than to be loved. “Can I try something?” I said. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
He nodded, and I took a deep breath, trying to keep my stomach from doing somersaults. Gathering what courage I could find, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his chastely. I’d only ever kissed a few boys in my life, and it felt unfamiliar, but not awkward. Nice, I thought. It felt nice.
He seemed surprised, but he didn’t resist. It was a painful few seconds, but finally he relaxed and kissed me back, his hand cupping my neck. The heat of his skin against mine was almost unbearably hot.
I don’t know how long it was before I forced myself to pull away. While I caught my breath, I watched Henry warily, afraid he would bolt. He sat still, his expression blank, and finally I couldn’t stay silent any longer.
“That—” I hesitated and offered him a smile. “I liked that. A lot.”
After what felt like ages, he returned my smile with a small one of his own. “As did I.”
Nervously I reached out to thread my fingers with his, looking down at our hands instead of directly at him. Mine was so small that it looked lost in his. “Henry? Don’t take this the wrong way—”
I could feel him tense, and I immediately felt guilty, though I made an effort to mask it with a teasing look.
“Let me finish,” I said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but since it’s Christmas and all…would you stay with me tonight?”
His eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and I quickly shook my head, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Not like that. You’ve got to earn that, and it costs more than just a picture, y’know.” My weak attempt at a joke managed to break the tension enough to get him to crack an apologetic smile. “But could you just…stay for tonight?”
Several seconds passed, and I mentally kicked myself for asking like I had—like I was some hormonal teenager who only wanted that. But I didn’t want that at all. I wanted his company. He made me happy, and tonight of all nights, I didn’t want to be alone. Most of all, I didn’t want him to be either.
“Yes,” he said. “I will stay.”
Nothing happened.
We spent the rest of the evening talking and watching the lights on the tree. Wh
en it was time to go to sleep, I curled up next to him and unashamedly used his chest as a pillow, but that was it.
I didn’t kiss him again, too content to risk screwing things up. He didn’t deserve to be pushed like that, and while taking the next step opened a whole new set of doors, for now I wanted to appreciate his company. We both deserved to enjoy Christmas, rather than fumble through a lot of awkward moments.
My mother and I walked through Central Park, the haze of the city in the summer bearing down on us. She looked pleased as I recounted what had happened between Henry and me, and she hugged me to her when I told her that I’d kissed him.
“That’s my girl,” she said, sounding happier than she had in ages.
We spent our last Christmas together eating ice cream and wandering through the gardens in the hot summer sun, and she pointed out the kinds of flowers that grew wild. She never took her arm from my shoulders, and when I felt myself begin to wake up, I wished her Merry Christmas for the last time.
My contentment didn’t last for long, however. The first thing I heard when I awoke was pounding on my door. Confused, I sat up, my hair sticking out every which way, and I ran my fingers through it as Henry stood and walked toward the door.
In that moment, I hated him. He looked impeccable, not a hair out of place, and he moved as gracefully as ever. Meanwhile, I’d be paying for sleeping on the floor for the rest of the day.
“Yes?” he said, opening the door. To my surprise, Ella dashed in, closely followed by Calliope. Ella was crying, her face beet-red, and Calliope looked crushed with her slumped shoulders and her face drawn.
“I want her gone!” cried Ella furiously, looking back and forth between Henry and me.
“Is that a request,” said Henry, moving back toward the nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, “or a demand?”
“She hurt him!” said Ella, now focusing on Henry. “She hurt him, and he tried to find her, and now—”
“Wait, who?” I said as I struggled to my feet. “What’s going on?”
Ella dissolved into tears. Now standing next to me, Henry looked expectantly at Calliope. She stared at the floor, not meeting his gaze.
