by Quinn Loftis
“Jennifer.” Jacque growled. “I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re going to die before you get to see the culmination of this joyous celebration you’re planning. I hope it has been enough to simply decorate and sing fa la la la’s for hours on end.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Red.” Jen sighed as she wrapped another string of lights around their fifteen-foot tree. Jacque hadn’t been counting, but she was pretty sure it was the twenty-fifth strand.
“His first word was supposed to be Da-da, or Ma-ma, or anything other than a curse word,” Jacque snapped.
“Da-mut, is not a curse word. Believe me. I should know. He’s obviously saying the mutt. As in one of our smelly, flea-infested mates. He’s probably heard one of us say it and decided that must be what he’s supposed to say.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Sally said. The brunette walked into the large living room carrying another box of ornaments. “Thia runs around yelling hell and dammit at the top of her lungs all the time. Not to mention, she literally sits in front of Slate sounding the words out for him.”
“You’re not helping, Sally.” Jen snarled.
“Wasn’t trying to,” Sally sang.
“Thia,” Jacque huffed. “Stop saying dammit.” Slate clapped his hands and grinned as he laughed. Okay, so maybe his mother saying dammit wasn’t such a good example. Jacque walked over to where Slate sat on the floor, chewing on a bow. “Slate, say da-da,” she said in that ridiculous baby voice all adults suddenly adopt when addressing a child.
Slate babbled and then said, “Da-mut.”
Jacque heard Fane’s laughter as he walked up behind her. “You might as well give it up, Luna,” he said before leaning down and lifting Slate up. Fane tossed him into the air and caught him, grinning as Slate laughed and kicked his little legs. “It could be worse.”
“How?” Jacque leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out in front of her, and looked up at her mate.
“He could be saying witch with a ‘b.’”
“I’d prefer that, especially if he was talking to his Aunt Jen.”
“Not nice, Red,” Jen said from behind the massive tree.
“But true,” Jacque tossed back.
Thia walked over to Jacque and climbed in her lap. She patted Jacque’s cheek and smiled. It was impossible to stay mad at the adorable little girl. Even though her potty mouth was nearly as bad as her mother’s. It was freaking hilarious. It was even more hilarious that her dad didn’t find it funny and continually growled at anyone who laughed about it, which was everyone. Now that Slate’s first word sounded too much like dammit, Jacque understood how Decebel felt.
“I thought Christmas was supposed to be ‘the most wonderful time of the year,’ with the decking of balls and having a good beer.” The voice of Perizada, the high fae, filled the room. Jacque turned to see she and her mate, Lucian, had appeared.
Jacque rolled her eyes. “It’s deck the halls and be of good cheer, you dork. Maybe if you weren’t off keeping secrets with the warlock queen, then you’d know that.”
“Secrets?” Jen’s head popped around the side of the tree as her eyes narrowed on the fae. “You’re keeping secrets from us now? After everything we’ve been through?” Jen dropped the strand of lights and marched around the tree with her hands on her hips. Her lips had drawn tightly across her face in a severe line. “We were just over to see Lilly a few weeks ago. Has something happened? Nobody mentioned anything while we were there having some serious girl bonding time.”
“My bad,” Jacque muttered under her breath.
Peri shot Jacque a glare as Jen stomped her foot.
“Secrets are for pussies, Peri.”
“Oh, snap.” Sally sighed. “She’s busting out the ‘P’ word. The last time she did that things got messy.”
“Did you just call me a cat?” Peri asked. “You’re losing your touch, Jen, if that’s your idea of an insult.”
“No, she just called you a vagina,” Jacque offered.
“That’s right.” Jen nodded, her hands still on her hip. “You’re a secret-keeping vagina, and we don’t tolerate them.”
“I’m pretty sure the men would disagree.” Fane chuckled. “We tolerate vaginas just fine. Even Peri’s apparently. After all, she is mated to my uncle. But Jen is right, we shouldn’t be keeping secrets.”
Lucian growled while Peri’s head turned slowly, her piercing gaze landing on Fane.
“He’s had a little too much spiked eggnog, Peri,” Jacque said quickly. She shot a look at her mate. “Do you have a death wish?” she asked him through the bond.
“What?” he asked, feigning confusion. “It’s the truth. She has a va—”
“Stop talking, Fane.”
“No secrets, you say,” Peri said slowly. Jacque did not like the devilish gleam in the high fae’s eyes.
“Exactly,” Fane nodded. “Vaginas, yes. Secrets, no.”
Jacque was trying to count just how many glasses of eggnog her mate had drank when suddenly Peri chuckled and then snapped her fingers.
“All right then, here ya go,” the high fae said, sounding much too pleased with herself.
A minute later, everyone, except the wiggling children, instantly froze. Jacque’s head felt as if it were about to explode, and then there was a memory, or it felt like a memory, of Thia. The girl was … blue? Then, an instant later, Jacque was able to move again.
“What. The. Actual. Frucker?” Jen spat as she turned her stare from Peri to Fane. “You and Costin dyed Thia blue?!”
Fane looked as confused as Jacque felt, as he scratched his head.
“Peri, what did you just do?” Sally asked, wild eyed.
“Alpha Fane said he doesn’t like secrets.” Her voice dropped as she added, “But he tolerates my vagina.”
“And that’s my cue to turn around,” Wadim said just as he stepped into the living room. The historian spun on his heel and marched back out. Lucky bastard, Jacque thought as she tried to figure out why she remembered Thia being blue. She recalled it was Fane and Costin’s fault, but not much else.
“Okay, wait,” Jacque said as she looked around the room. “Does anyone else remember Thia being turned blue? I think Fane and Costin did it, but I don’t remember anything else.”
Sally nodded. “That’s exactly what I got.”
“I would never turn Thia blue,” Fane said, but he did not look convinced of his own words. “And neither would Costin. I mean, how would we even do that?”
“It happened.” Peri sighed as she plopped down on the couch. “Right after Thia was born. Jen was losing her shit because, ya know, post-pregnancy hormones. And the girls, in a show of pure brilliance, kidnapped Thia. Costin and Fane, to their credit, recognized the potential disaster and stole her back, hoping to return the girl to her crib before Jen and Decebel realized she was missing.”
A sound—something like a cough, gag, and sputter all rolled into one—came from Jen. Jacque couldn’t remember the last time Jen was actually speechless.
“So, Costin and I did the smart thing. Yep, sounds about right. Not sure about the blue thing though,” Fane said.
“Slow your roll, there, Alpha Einstein,” said Peri. “You two idiots didn’t know the difference between baby soap and a mysterious blue-staining, gypsy-healer concoction. Hence, blue Thia. It was traumatic for everyone involved, except the kid. She didn’t give a crap she was blue. The girl just wanted to gnaw Jen’s nipple off. I didn’t want to listen to Jen whine about her boob biter being turned blue for the rest of forever, so I took the memories away. Boom. End of Story. You said you didn’t want any secrets, Alpha Boy. So, there ya go.”
“You took our memories?” Jacque asked. “Blue, Fane?” Jen said at the same time, while Sally added, “Stealing Thia does sound like something we would do.”
Lucian sat down next to his mate and shook his head. “You just had to stir the pot.”
“She c
alled me a pussy, and he said they tolerate my vagina.” Peri huffed. “And in the spirit of Christmas or whatever, I’m trying not to turn people into inanimate objects.”
Jacque glanced down at Thia in her lap. The girl looked around the room as if she could sense the tension. When Jacque looked at Jen, she could tell her friend was trying to figure out who she should be mad at and just how mad she should be.
Jen turned to Peri. “You sort of glossed over quite a few details there, Peri Fairy. Why do I get the feeling there is much more to the story than Thia ending up blue? I don’t think you would’ve stolen our memories over that.”
The fae shrugged. “I never signed a contract requiring full disclosure. I’m the ambassador of the high fae council, afforded the autonomy to use my discretion when I feel it necessary. Maybe you should focus on the fact that Fane and Costin could have permanently turned your daughter into a blueberry. Focus, Jen.”
“Good point.” Jen turned to Jacque. “My kid teaching your kid to use profanity is not nearly as bad as your man dying Thia blue. Obviously, this is karma, and she’s biting you in the ass. This is your husband’s punishment for almost turning my kid into a real-life Smurf.” Jen picked up the lights she’d dropped earlier. She continued wrapping them around the branches, muttering under her breath about blueberries and revenge.
“She’s taking this way better than I expected,” Peri said.
“You sound disappointed.” Lucian gave a low chuckle.
“Very.” Peri sighed.
“Couldn’t you just dye our kid green and call it good?” Jacque said toward the direction of the tree. There was no reply, only a hissed curse and a whispered, “I’ll show them blueberry.”
“Jacquelyn,” Fane said. “Don’t go giving her ideas. Knowing Jen, it would wind up being permanent, and we’d have to dress him up as Kermit the frog every Halloween.”
“That’s your only worry about our kid being dyed permanently green?” Jacque asked, her lips pursed. “We need to discuss your priorities, babe.”
“Who’s dyeing whose kid green? And why do I have a memory of Fane and I dying Thia blue?” Costin walked in carrying a box of ornaments and sporting a confused look.
“How many freaking ornaments are we putting on this tree, and why the hell did you”—Decebel pointed at Fane and then Costin—“dye Thia blue?”
“Hell!” The formerly blue child in question yelled and clapped in Jacque’s lap. Jacque frowned. Maybe the dye had addled the girl’s brain. She decided immediately she would not point that out.
“Finally.” Peri rubbed her hands together. “Now, it’s going to get good.”
Jacque glanced up at Peri. “You realize if Jen’s taking the news this well, it just means she’s plotting something big, right? Now we’re going to be constantly looking over our shoulders.”
“I never seem to think things through when I’m irritated. Talk about me being a tolerant vagina and all my self-control flies out the window.”
“Nobody is dying anyone’s kid green,” Sally said. Titus walked over and reached out a hand for Sally to pass him an ornament.
“At least it would be festive,” Titus offered, his eyes gleaming with joy while he practically skipped to the tree. “Although I bet Thia looked pretty blue. Like a magical, little blue fairy.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Talbot,” Jen said. She stood back to look at the tree.
“Aunt Jen, my name is Titus. Although if you couldn’t remember Thia was blue, I guess I shouldn’t expect you to remember my name.”
“That’s it, you’re back on my list, Trip.”
Jacque sighed while Thia played with her hair and sang jingle bells, only she said “Jingle hells, jingle hells, jingle all the way.”
“I think this chick needs therapy,” Jacque said, pointing at the mini hellion in her lap.
“Of course she needs therapy.” Jen rolled her eyes. “She’s no doubt got PTBSD.”
“Do you mean PTSD?” Sally asked.
“Nooooo, I mean PTBSD. Post-Traumatic Blue Stress Disorder.”
“And we’re back.” Peri grinned.
“You suck, Peri. You know that, don’t you?” Fane sat down in a free chair with Slate dozing in his arms.
The fae just grinned and tilted her head back and forth.
“Or,” Sally said, nodding her head with her eyes wide. “Or Thia just totally understands rhyming because she is so flipping smart.”
“Uh-huh, right. It isn’t because she has an unhealthy fascination with the word hell,” Jacque said dryly.
“It doesn’t help that you keep saying it,” Jen pointed out.
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that you say it every time a strand of lights has gone out or an ornament box gets dropped?” Sally asked with a laugh.
“Decebel has dropped ten boxes of ornaments.” Jen growled. “He’s doing it on purpose. What the hell, B?”
“See.” Sally pointed at Jen. “There it is again.”
“There’s fifty ornaments in each box, Jennifer,” Decebel snapped back. “I seriously doubt we need several thousand colored balls on the tree that is only going to be up for a couple of weeks.”
“We could hang other kinds of balls on it,” Jen whispered as she narrowed her eyes on her mate.
“Maybe you should start with the balls of the males who dyed our daughter blue,” Decebel shot back.
“Maybe you should be prepared for your balls to be blue,” she countered.
“That’s … that’s not … don’t even joke about that,” Decebel sputtered.
“Yep, it was totally worth it,” Peri said.
“Don’t think your mate’s balls are safe.” Jen turned her angry glare on Peri. “Or your lady balls. Hell—”
“And there it is again,” Sally mumbled.
“We could be the first tree in history to be decked out in balls and vaginas.” Jen threw her hands up in the air.
“You lost me with lady balls.” Peri shrugged. “But, please, carry on.”
“Okay, I think it’s bedtime.” Jacque scooped Thia up. “When Jen starts busting balls, and not Christmas ones, it’s time for the already corrupted children to hit the sack.”
“Minimize the damage?” Sally asked.
“Exactly. We need to save them before they are too far gone,” Jacque said.
“Mommy, can I stay up and hang up more Christmas balls? I promise I won’t hang any other kinds of balls, even if Aunt Jen tries to get me to,” Titus said. He put a silver ornament on the tree and then stood back and admired it.
“I think we may already be too late,” Sally said. “Jen, maybe you should get some rest, too. You’ve been working your butt off to make this place look great. It’s been a long day. Peri’s just dropped a truth bomb on you. You deserve some rest.”
“I second that motion,” Jacque said as she handed Thia to Decebel. “Take your corrupted child, who, I will add, is no longer blue, so no permanent damage, obviously. Take your even more corrupted wife who, I will also note, is looking a little homicidal, and put them to bed.”
Jen’s angry face twisted into a wicked smile. “Yes, B, put me to bed. Let’s get out those other kind of blue ba—”
“JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS,” Jacque started singing at the top of her lungs. Sally joined in, as did Thia, who once again yelled “hells” instead of bells.
Fane stood up and walked over to Jacque. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “I’ll be back after I get him down. Then perhaps we need to talk to Peri about taking memories and when it’s not appropriate to give them back.”
She smiled up at him. “I’ll be here, trying not to worry that our child is going to turn into a delinquent who gets Thia knocked up at sixteen. Or permanently dyed green by a deranged she-wolf.”
Fane’s eyes widened in horror.
“Too much?” Jacque couldn’t help but laugh.
“Jacque, maybe you should lay off the eggnog, too,” Sally said.
“I saw you drinking it from the carton earlier.”
“If you don’t stop throwing me under the bus, I’m going to have to run you over with said bus,” Jacque quipped. She walked over and lifted Titus so he could hang a few ornaments higher on the tree. The rest were bunched in one small area on the bottom , right where Slate could snatch them off.
Costin laughed and turned it into a cough when his mate glared at him. “This is going to be an interesting Christmas,” he said as he rubbed his mouth, no doubt trying to cover his grin.
“With this group, how could it possibly be anything else?” Jacque couldn’t help but smile. Christmas was going to be interesting, and probably hilarious, and an absolute disaster. But she had a feeling that’s exactly the kind of Christmas they needed. They needed Thia’s ridiculous vocabulary. They needed Slate’s infectious laughter. They needed Titus’s brilliant summaries of stupid situations. They needed to see that the future was bright, that there was a future for them. The recent past was just too dark, too painful. So, Jacque would accept her son’s first word was dammit. She would take jingle hells and three thousand balls, of any kind, on the tree. She would take the possibility that her best friend might get drunk on eggnog and actually dye her son green. She would take it all because it meant they were together. And they were safe, for now.
“Where’s that eggnog,” Peri asked. “I need a drink myself. Jen and Decebel were not remotely upset enough for my gratification.”
Sally laughed. “Oh, if you think she and Dec are doing anything else besides plotting all of our demise right now, you do not need any eggnog because you are going to need all of your faculties in full working order.”
“She ain’t wrong,” Jacque said, pointing at Sally.
“Hmm,” Peri sighed. “Sooo, I probably shouldn’t have let the blue baby out of the bag, huh?”
“She’s claiming her child has PTBSD,” Sally said.
“You’re right. We’re screwed.”
* * *
The End
Thank you so very much for taking time to read The Warlock Queen! I truly hope you enjoyed it and if so would you please take time to leave a review? They are so very greatly appreciated.
