Page 80 of Always Murder

For a single, dazed moment, I thought I was dreaming.This had to be a dream.Or a dissociative break.Or—or because I’d seenA Christmas Storytoo many times.

Somehow, it got even stranger.Hurried footsteps raced toward me, and then Millie stepped out from behind the shelving unit.Keme was at her side, and he kicked Andrea’s gun away.Ryan followed them.He was carrying one of his stupid airsoft rifles like he was part of Seal Team Six, and the best way to describe his expression waswhen a boy becomes a mancrossed withMom, did you see what I did?Paul, only a few steps behind, looked crushingly jealous.

Bobby emerged a moment later, and the best way to describe the look onhisface was that he looked how I felt—which was like I’d stepped out of one nightmare and into the John Hughes version ofThe Bourne Identity.

Nobody said anything.Well, except Andrea, who was still screaming, “My eye!My eye!”

Millie stared at Andrea, considering her, apparently unmoved by all the noise.(Big surprise.)

And then Millie punched her in the face.

Chapter 25

“I thought it was a family Christmas pageant,” I said as we shuffled into the crowded sanctuary of the Hastings Rock Community Church.

I’d never been to the church before.(I know, I know: big surprise.) The aesthetic seemed to land somewhere between Blood of the Lamb and laserdisc: crimson carpet and white wood and these intense purple floodlights that made me think I’d suddenly become able to see ultraviolet light.There was also a dash of Grandmother’s Living Room—I was ninety percent sure my grandma had owned the same candlesticks, and I’d definitely seen those golden tassels before.It smelled like overheated children and winter woolens and musty upholstery, and the hub of voices made me wish I’d brought along the kind of hearing protection that airport ground staff have to wear.

It looked like the whole town had turned out.Tessa and her daughter waved to us from one of the front pews.Bliss and Althea Wilson were defiantly saving seats with their coats.Oscar Ratcliff was there, and he immediately locked eyes on us, obviously sniffing around for fresh gossip after the earlier excitement that day.And up at the front—I wasn’t sure if it was called a stage or an altar or, um, a narthex?—a few pieces of setting suggested an inn, a stable, and the little town of Bethlehem.Christine was scurrying around in her Christmas Eve best, making final adjustments to the grand production.

“It’s not,” Fox said.The theme of their outfit seemed to beMrs.Claus, Zeppelin Pilot, and that’s all I’ll say—except that it involved a gratuitous amount of synthetic fur trim.A bit unnecessarily, they added, “Obviously.”

“I thought it was going to be in their living room,” I said.

“Well, it’s not,” Fox said.“Obviously.”

“Iknowit’s not—” I began.

“There are some seats over there,” Bobby said.

Which was Bobby’s way of telling both of us to knock it off.

We squeezed onto the end of a pew near the front.They seemed like prime seats, and I wondered why they’d been left open until I noticed who was sitting in front of us.And next to us.And behind us.

The Archer clan.

Here’s the thing: as individuals, every member of the Archer clan was lovely.(Except Cosmo, who was literally an ankle-biter—he was three years old, he was entirely made of teeth, and once he’d latched on to me in the Keel Haul, it had taken the jaws of life to pry him free.) But as a horde—er, quiver?—which was the collective noun for a group of Archers, they were…a lot.Sybil, who was six, had come to the Nativity pageant in a plastic astronaut’s helmet, and she was currently screaming as loud as she could inside it.Rhodes, who was ten, had taken Zaya’s firetruck and was smashing it repeatedly against the back of the pew.Zaya was wailing.Imogen was climbing on Mr.Archer, who looked like he’d fallen asleep, and Mrs.Archer was unscrewing the top off a flask.

“I changed my mind,” Fox said, and then they flinched as Rhodes smashed the firetruck down about five inches from their head.“I’m just going to nip out into the lobby.”

“Don’t be such a baby—” I began.

The rest of it was lost in a shout as Cosmo chomped down.

Bobby gave Fox—andme—identically disapproving looks.He plucked Cosmo off me and handed him over the seat to Grandma Archer.He took the firetruck from Rhodes, returned it to Zaya, and said, “Don’t make me get Miss Julie.”

I had no idea who Miss Julie was, but the bloodwhooshedout of Rhodes’s face.

Without missing a beat, Bobby flipped open the visor on Sybil’s astronaut mask and said, “There’s no air in space.”

Sybil stopped screaming.

I was busy checking for blood loss and pinched nerves and pulverized ankle bones, but I couldn’t help it.I stopped what I was doing and stared.

Bobby was looking at something on his phone, but eventually he noticed.“What?”

“Are you a mage?”

“What?”

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