Page 10 of Of Magic and Reindeer
“This is fine. Totally normal.” I leaned closer, inspecting my pores, which had always been small but were now nearly nonexistent. “Spray tans fade. Everyone knows that.”
They didn’t fade overnight. And they certainly didn’t fade evenly, leaving behind skin that looked photoshopped.
I ran my hands down my arms and over my stomach, feeling for any residue or explanation. Nothing. Just smooth skin that practically glowed in the morning light.
What in the sparkly vampire was happening? I was actually glowing. A faint, pearlescent shimmer danced across my body when I turned.
Coffee. I needed coffee before I could process whatever fresh hell this was. I stumbled out of the bathroom, avoiding any more reflective surfaces as I made my way to the kitchen, one hand braced against the wall for support.
The kitchen was flooded with morning light, making the white cabinets even brighter. I squinted, heading for the coffee maker, and froze.
On my kitchen counter sat a steaming mug. Not my usual matte black ceramic one with the chip on the handle, but a deep red mug decorated with reindeer. Next to it stood a tall glass of milk and a plate piled high with chocolate chip cookies that looked like they’d been plucked straight from a magazine photoshoot.
I didn’t own a mug with reindeer on it.
I didn’t make cookies last night.
I certainly didn’t set out milk like I was waiting for Santa Claus.
My hands shook as I approached the counter, half-expecting the items to vanish like a mirage. The mug even steamed, sending up lazy curls that smelled like... I leaned closer, inhaling.
Hot chocolate. Rich and dark with hints of cinnamon and vanilla.
I picked up a cookie. It was still warm, as if it had just come out of an oven I definitely hadn’t used. The chocolate chips were melty, glistening invitingly.
“Okay, Neve, think.” I set the cookie down and backed away. “Someone broke into your house to... bake cookies and make hot chocolate.”
The absurdity hit me all at once. I spun around, scanning for signs of forced entry. The doors were locked. Windows secure. My alarm hadn’t gone off. Nothing was out of place except for the bizarre breakfast spread.
I grabbed my phone from where I’d left it charging andpulled up the security app. The footage showed no midnight visitors or movement beyond the occasional shadow cast by passing headlights.
Yet here sat fresh cookies and hot chocolate.
I cautiously dipped a finger into the mug. The liquid was the perfect temperature, hot enough to comfort but not burn. Exactly how I’d like it if I drank it.
The cookies smelled like childhood. Like a memory I couldn’t quite grasp.
I picked one up again, turning it over in my hand. The rational part of my brain screamed not to eat mysterious food that had appeared in my locked house. The rest of me, the part that had spent a week talking to reindeer and growing ice powers, was curiously calm.
One bite wouldn’t kill me. Probably.
I raised the cookie to my lips and took a bite.
The taste hit me like a freight train of memories. Something familiar and safe, buried so deep I hadn’t known it existed until this moment. It tasted like... like...
“Home.” The word escaped as a whisper.
Which made no sense. Home for me had been boarding schools and dorms. Not this specific flavor that triggered a long-dormant synapse in my brain.
I dropped the cookie as if it had burned me, watching it break apart on the counter.
The hot chocolate called to me next. I resisted for approximately four seconds before grabbing the mug and taking a sip. Warmth flooded through me, but not the normal kind from a hot beverage. This warmth felt like it started somewhere deep inside my soul and radiated outward.
I set the mug down with a sharp clink and backed away.
The reindeer in the park. The ice powers. The men who disappeared from Sinclair’s. The skin that glowed. And now, magically appearing baked goods that tasted like memories I didn’t have.
I needed to get out of this house, out of Palm Springs, away from whatever curse was plaguing me. There was no way Icould call the police. What would I say? The cookie bandits had left me cookies and drinks?
