Page 58 of Of Magic and Reindeer
The reindeer shifted around me, thankfully emerging fully clothed. I wasn’t mentally prepared to have other people see them naked, no matter how spectacular the view might be.
Astrid’s gaze bounced between me and the men like a pinball, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. She took a half-step forward, then stopped herself, hands fidgeting with the clasp of her cloak. “It’s really… I mean, you’re actually…”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Regular, boring Neve from Palm Springs.”
The lanterns flickered, their warm light pulsing. The shadows danced along the walls as the flames brightened, casting the barn in a glow that felt almost alive. I could feel something stirring inside me, a familiar cool tingle spreading from my chest to my fingertips.
Blitz’s hand slid along the small of my back. “You doing okay there, princess?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, the nickname scraping against raw nerves.
A crackling sound drew my eyes upward. Along the massive wooden beams, frost was spreading in intricate patterns, tiny icicles forming and catching the light like crystal ornaments. The barn fell silent, the only sound the chuffing of reindeer that were apparently not shifters.
Vix whistled low. “Nice trick.”
“I didn’t...” But I had. The frost was receding now, melting away as quickly as it had appeared, the lanterns settling back to their normal brightness. “Sorry.”
Astrid’s composure snapped back into place with practiced ease. “Well! Let’s not keep you standing around in a dusty old barn!” She swung a massive door open with surprising strength.
Reinberg spilled before us with twinkling lights, laughter, and music. The cobblestone streets bustled with people bundled in colorful scarves and hats, weaving between market stalls overflowing with ornaments, toys, and steaming food and drinks.
Don took my hand. “Ready?”
No. I absolutely was not ready. I was the anti-Christmas Grinch being led into the heart of Whoville.
Pierce stood on my other side, his body a wall of warmth. “We can leave anytime you want.”
I took a deep breath and stepped into Reinberg. “Let’s get this over with.”
Everything sparkled, an assault of holiday cheer. Christmas carols floated through the air, mingling with laughterand the scent of roasting chestnuts. It was too loud, too bright, and way too festive.
“Not so bad, right?” Blitz nudged my shoulder, his eyes bright with excitement.
I shot him a look that could have frozen the sun. “It’s like Christmas threw up everywhere.”
Tourists clutched steaming mugs and browsed at stalls. Most people were too busy with their holiday shopping to notice us.
But as we moved deeper into the village, I noticed the shift. A woman hanging delicate glass ornaments from her stall went completely still, the bauble dangling forgotten from her fingertips as her gaze locked on me. A man scooping spiced nuts dropped his scoop with a clatter, his mouth falling open.
I tucked my chin into my scarf. “Why are they staring at me?”
Don’s large hand settled protectively on my shoulder. “It’s been a long time since they’ve seen...”
“Who? Someone who hates Christmas?”
Vix chuckled beside me, but even he was scanning the growing number of wide-eyed vendors. “Maybe they recognize your natural charm and winning personality.”
I elbowed him in the ribs but pulled my coat tighter around me. The looks weren’t hostile but more like people seeing a celebrity they thought was dead or a long-lost relative returning home. Their expressions held a reverence that made my skin prickle.
An older woman with silver hair stepped directly into our path, a bundle of evergreen branches clutched in her gloved hands. Her eyes widened, soft with what looked like hope. Hope for what, though?
“Excuse us,” Pierce smoothly steered me around her before she could speak. “Let’s head to the Frostbite Inn. It’s quieter there.”
I leaned closer to him, grateful for the escape. “Frostbite Inn? Seriously? Who names these places?”
We followed a winding path toward a cozy lodge nestledbehind a line of trees draped in twinkling fairy lights. The air smelled of cloves, sugar, and freshly baked bread, drawing us forward like a sensory beacon. I inhaled deeply, something loosening in my chest.
Inside, it was warm, with mismatched chairs clustered around a blazing hearth and wooden tables polished to a gleam. Garlands hung from exposed beams, and vintage ornaments caught the light from iron chandeliers. Mugs of steaming spiced wine already waited on the bar, as if they’d known we were coming.
