Page 33 of Our Dark Winter Wish

‘Merry Christmas.’

There’s a crash, and Dorian swears as Archie laughs.

‘That tray is for the fire, Dorian. Not the floor.’

‘One more word, I’ll prepareyouand putyouon the fire.’

‘I might let you. The way your hand is up that turkey's arse makes me think that I might enjoy it immensely.’

‘I’m stuffing it like you told me to!’

‘Well, you look like a mighty fine stuffer, Dorian. No wonder Pix was walking with a limp last night.’

‘You better go and make sure they don’t try putting each other on the spit instead of the turkey,’ Pixie says as she sweeps the hair from my face. Her finger trails along my lower lip, and I kiss it as it passes.

‘We’re getting the tree in a bit, so when you get dressed, wear something warm,’ I tell her.

‘Yes, My Lord,’ she coos.

In the kitchen, Dorian is doing unholy things to the rear end of the turkey as he stuffs it with herbs. Archie is gathering the vegetables on the table, ready to peel.

‘Where’s she gone?’

‘To wash and dress,’ I tell Dorian. He looks upwards, and a flicker of fear washes across his face. The same as every time there’s the slightest possibility that she’ll wander off alone.

‘She’s not going anywhere today, Dorian,’ Archie assures him. ‘No need to shrug off your mortal flesh suit and go into stalking mode.’

We work as a team and swiftly get everything organised. The bird is cooking. The veg is prepared for boiling or roasting, and the smell it all makes is an absolute delight.

I don’t need to eat. Neither does Dorian. But we can, and we do. Archie has the cooking skills. His pack taught him how to use everything in the forests, and he hasn’t forgotten a thing. He made the oven with stone and slate, and we eat well and often.

Mainly, I just enjoy watching Pixie eat. She was a half-starved little thing when we first found her. It’s good to see some curves on her now.

Soon, we’re all set. The food is cooking, and everything is tidied away, so we prepare ourselves for the day.

Pix is ready and waiting for us at the front door, wearing a stunning deep red woollen dress. She puts on her black gloves and slides on her cloak, watching us join her.

‘So where to?’ she asks.

‘It’s a few miles away,’ Archie says, opening the door and stepping through. He swiftly starts stripping and tosses his clothes at me. He shifts with a leap and a flourish, landing before us in his great wolf form. Pixie promptly climbs atop him, and he leads the way.

She’s still the only one he allows to ride him. Shame. It was enjoyable when he let me that one time.

There’s a soft thud. I look back to see Dorian in his shadow master form, his body discarded on the armchair.

The floors groan beneath his weight, and he has to duck at the waist to fit through the front door.

We walk together.

A great wolf being ridden by the earth witch goddess.

A gigantic black monster made of solid shadow.

And me. A man of nightmares.

A strange sight, I’m sure.

A constant ambience of chatter and laughter surrounds us as we travel through the forests to a patch where pine trees grow. Dorian makes light work of hacking the tree Pixie and Archie declare their favourite, and we make the trek back, the tree tossed over Dorian’s shoulder.

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