Page 15 of Of Magic and Reindeer
I knew him. Not his name, but his face. He’d been at Sinclair’s that night, one of the nine.
I turned, hoping to slip between the wall of dancers, only to lock eyes with another man at the bar. He lounged casually against the counter, light golden skin catching the glow of the overhead lights, his black hair falling across one eye like it knew exactly what it was doing. His dark brown eyes sparked with amusement and a challenge. He raised his glass in a toast, his smile spreading slowly across his face.
Another one from Sinclair’s.
The buzzing under my skin intensified, no longer uncomfortable but... familiar. Like something dormant waking up.
Mia was already dancing with someone, so I pushed through the crowd, desperate to get to the bathroom. My breath came in quick gasps as I navigated the press of bodies. I needed a minute to collect myself.
The air grew thick around me, heavy with something I couldn’t name. Other clubgoers seemed to part unconsciously, creating a path I hadn’t asked for. Ahead, the bathroom door beckoned to me with safety, privacy, and escape.
I reached for the door only to realize the buzzing had stopped. In its place, a weight settled in my chest, pulling me backward toward the dance floor like an invisible thread connecting me to those men. It was so much worse than the fear I had been feeling. It was as if my body knew them even if my mind didn’t.
The music seemed to recede, the crowd’s energy dimming against the pounding awareness of two sets of eyes tracking my movements. One pair, precise and calculating, the other wild and challenging.
I yanked open the bathroom door, slipping inside where the bass became a dull thud and the air was mercifully empty of whatever the hell was happening to me. Bracing my hands against the counter, I stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, and my eyes were too bright.
Coincidences didn’t exist, not at this frequency. Not whenthose men looked at me like that. Not when something inside me recognized them right back.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to bring myself back to baseline. Just a girl. In a bathroom. Probably just drunk.
I reached for a paper towel and froze. My reflection didn’t match me.
She was standing exactly where I was, but her hair was white, her eyes glowed blue, and she wore a deep red coat with white fur trim. A Santa hat sat perfectly tilted on her head.
She smiled.
I screamed.
Chapter 6
Rose Thief and Succulent Destroyer
Istared at my reflection, chest heaving, mascara smudged beneath my eyes. The silver-haired Santa version of me had vanished—if she’d ever been there at all. I’d finally cracked under the pressure of... of what? Having a terrible week? Seeing a reindeer in a park?
The bathroom door crashed open with such force that it bounced off the wall.
A dark-haired man from the bar burst in, eyes wild, scanning every corner of the small space before landing on me. “What happened?”
Before it fully registered that one of my stalkers was in an empty bathroom with me, a second figure appeared behind him. The second one who’d been watching me stepped through the doorway with controlled movements, like he was on some kind of top military mission.
“What the actual fuck?” I reeled backward, colliding with the counter. My hands gripped the edge so hard my knuckles whitened. “What are you doing?”
The door swung shut behind them. No security guard came rushing in. No concerned bartender. No one came to my rescue.
The dark-haired one ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, glancing from me to the mirror and back. “I heard youscream.”
“From across a nightclub?” My voice crept higher. “Through walls and over music that could wake the dead?”
He shifted his weight, flashing a concerned smile. “You’ve got some serious pipes. Pretty sure they heard you on the International Space Station.”
The blond one hadn’t moved, hadn’t smiled, stared at me with those unnerving gray eyes. “We felt it.”
“Felt what?” I straightened my spine, trying to appear taller, more formidable, less like someone who’d just seen her doppelgänger dressed as Santa Claus in a nightclub bathroom mirror.
“Your magic.” He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. “It spiked.”
The room tilted. I gripped the counter tighter. “I don’t have magic. And you both need to leave. Now.”
