Page 12 of Go Luck Yourself
“He’s really doing this?” I ask again, a quaking whisper.
Wren puts a hand on my forearm as we walk. She smiles at me, a break of reassurance through her formal mask.
“They’re waiting.” She squeezes my arm. “Come on.”
We get to the massive gold and marble room that houses Christmas’s joy meter. The Merry Measure is a monstrous steampunk machine of copper piping and brass fixtures that harvests the joy generated due to Christmas and transforms that joy into magic. And, until recently, more than half the joy stored here came from entirely separate Holidays, thanks to my dad.
Tubes lead out of the room, funneling to various departments—not so much used right now, but during the later parts of the year, this place is buzzing.
Dad stands in front of the Merry Measure, talking with Marta, the woman who oversees it. My gaze cuts around—and I clock Coal leaning against the inside of the door.
There’s no greater representation of how much has changed these past few weeks than my brother. His whole bearing is different. More like… well, like our father, but not in a way that’s bad, just commanding. His auburn curls are always neatly set now, and he relents to Wren’s team of stylists so he’s rarely ever a disheveled mess. Like now, at about eight thirty in the morning, he’s in a suit, muted red with accents of green.
And I’m in sweats that smell faintly of caramel mocha because I accidentally put my coffee-doused shirt in a clean laundry pile.
Coal pushes away from the wall when he sees me. My insides twist, eyes darting back to Dad, then to Coal.
“Did he already… do it?” I try not to look uncomfortable. This is a good thing. Right?
Another good thing. Another good change.
One side of Coal’s lips cocks up. “No—he wanted to do it last night, but I made him wait for you to get here. You text me all thetime about aimless shit like study room wars, but when somethingactuallyhappens, where are you to be found?”
Yeah, I don’t offer daily to come home at all. “Us mere mortals call it sleeping.”
But my chest warms with relief so potent I have trouble catching my breath. He waited for me to do this.
My hands flex. “Shouldn’t this be a big event?” I eye Wren, still standing next to us.
She sighs, and I get the distinct impression that yes, if she had any say in it, thiswouldbe a big event. “Your father insisted it be done as quickly as possible.”
I glance at the Merry Measure again, where Dad and Marta wait silently, Dad looking at the piping above.
“Why?” I ask.
Coal throws an arm around my shoulders. “I’m not questioning it.”
But I don’t move when he tries to pull me deeper into the room. “Wait, isn’t Hex—”
“Hello, Kris.”
I am not proud of the high-pitched shriek I make as the Halloween Prince manifestsright in front of me,a swirl of shadowy Halloween magic dissipating around him.
He’s as put together as Coal in his usual black on black, and maybe that’s what’s rubbing off on my brother, too—his very postured, very collected boyfriend.
Hex’s big eyes do a good impression of innocence despite their demonic glimmer of amusement.
“You asshole.” I smack his shoulder.
Coal pops me on the back of the head. “Don’t hit my boyfriend.”
“He gets off on torturing me! You’re not going to defend your one and only brother?”
“No.”
Hex steps over to take Coal’s hand. But he gives me one more appraising look, and as my heart finally settles from that jump-scare, I roll my eyes at him to hide my smile.
Okay, itwasa good distraction. Gave me a chance to reset.
