Page 56 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“Don’t worry; I’ve only flipped a sleigh once—”
“Once?” Hex shrieks. His attention swings to me, back to the track, and he points frantically. “Branch!Branch!”
“I see it!”
“Do you?Turn—”
I obey, but I would have turned anyway, throwing us down the next arc of the track. We blow past two more sleighs, finally gaining ground, and I can see my brother up ahead.
I urge Sven faster, and he launches over the packed trail, the sleigh whooshing past evergreens that loom tall against the spotlights illuminating the track.Thisis racing; this is the reprieve, the true prize, this moment of pause, and I steal a glance at Hex.
He’s holding on to the edge, one elbow up to shield his face from the bite of the wind, but he—he’s smiling.
Oh, it’s on now.
I crack the reins. Sven ducks his head and pushes faster, leaving Kris in our snow-dust. My brother shouts something that gets lost in the speed, and I cackle as we pass him.
Up ahead, the track curves to the left, and I know there’s a bridge coming up—but I’ve taken that turn at faster speeds than this.
“Nicholas!” Hex shouts, and it’s the first time he’s said my name without any loaded title attached to it.
Something like that shouldn’t rattle me—but he grabs my arm. He grabs my arm, and he clamps down, and I forget where we are, what we’re doing, because he’s actively touching me. Through the layers of my sweater and coat, but it’s intentional, and my sight temporarily goes blank.
Sven turns, our sleigh careening on the track, and the wholething dips too far left even for my liking. I yank the reins and at the last second, it rights itself, settling back onto the slick path.
The weight lifts from my arm.
Hex.
I twist to him—
But he’s gone.
He fell off the sleigh.
I yank the reins,hard.Sven rears up before slowing into a stilted canter but I leap off, the sleigh fishtailing. Horror drives my limbs faster than my brain can make a plan as I slide on the icy track, heart thrashing against my ribs like it’s trying to crack one of them.
“Hex!” I scramble back up the path. We have a few seconds, half a minute at most, until my brother catches up to us—if Hex landed on the track, there’s no way Kris will be able to stop in time without plowing over him.
Shit, shit,shit—
“HEX!” I’m running, eyes scrambling over the road, but there’s nothing, no prone body, no swath of black wool.
I spin, and—there. In a bank off the path that leads to one of the massive lights, a shadow has sunk down into the snow.
“Hex!” I launch up the hill, tearing through snow like a madman, chest pinching tighter with each passing second of echoing, empty silence.
I drop to my knees in the snow and grasp into the sunken depression. An arm—that’s an arm. I pull, pull with everything in me.
And Hex bolts upright and slams a fistful of snow into my face.
My body goes stationary, stuck in the transition from being downright terrified to pummeled by a snowball.
I scrape the snow off and see Hex, red and wind-bitten andcoatedin snow, glaring at me, but it’s a light glare, a laughing glare.
“You lied,” he says simply, teeth clacking with cold.
“I—” My brain stutters. “I said it wouldn’tfly—”
