Magic & Mistletoe: 15 Paranormal Stories for the Holidays Page 21
While the human world was celebrating their Yule, the residents of the Underground, the Seelie, and the UnSeelie fae came together in the grand hall of the Seelie Court. Higher and Lower Fae alike were welcome to party and pay respects to the new princess. For the first time in over a hundred years, no one was turned away from their doors.
The Queen and King of the Seelie Court stood at the front of the room upon a raised dais. They watched the crowd with matching blue eyes and hair as white as snow. They were fair and just rulers and their people respected them above all else. Why else would they all come to see the newborn princess?
In middle of the dais, for the entire Underground to see, lay a cradle with gold and white ribbons and bows. Inside lay a tiny pink and wrinkled child, with hair as white as her parents’ and eyes as blue as the sea. Each citizen that passed by oh’ed and aw’ed at the little princess wrapped up in a silken gown.
Her father, the king, placed a hand on the cradle and bent down to caress the top of his daughter’s head, “You will be the light of the kingdom, my dear, just you wait.”
“She won’t be anything if we don’t get this line moving.” His queen responded back. Labor had been hard on her and the standing around was harder on her still. The king was surprised she hadn’t blasted them all with how short her temper had been through her pregnancy. She had promised to try to keep her raging hormones in check; a snide remark was the least of his worries.
“Don’t worry dear, there aren’t that many more.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Besides, Seer hasn’t even been through yet and you so wanted to hear what he had to say.”
Frowning, the queen patted his hand and nodded, “I suppose you are right but next time we have a child we are making sure he is first in line.”
“Next time?” the king smiled down at her with surprise. “You want more children?”
“Of course, I do. It would be a pity for our little girl to grow up with no siblings to play with. Though, I do hope the next one does not kick as much.” She made a pained face, that made the king chuckle.
“We can have as many as you like and we will proclaim that Seer is first in line for every one of them. That should make that old man happy.”
The queen snorted, “If he is still a man at that point. You know how he is, changing his appearance every hundred years or so. Next time he could be a woman.” Her lips curled up in the first real smile all evening. “Could you imagine? A female Seer. Now that is not something I would want to miss.”
“Nor I.” The king laughed along with her until his eyes caught sight of someone in the progression of visitors. “Now, here is someone you will be delighted to see, I’m sure of it.”
Coming up the dais in all of her dark glory was the UnSeelie Queen. Dark hair and in a dress that shimmered in the light, she glided up the steps with her son, Dorian, at her side.
“Cousin,” the queen held her hands out to her, “how wonderful of you to come. I haven’t seen you since young Prince Dorian’s last birthday.” She pressed air kisses to each side of the UnSeelie Queen’s cheek and then bent at the waist to greet the young prince.
“How are you, my dear?” she cocked her head to the side taking in the child before her. In fae years he was already over fifty but in human years he still looked as if he had yet to reach his tenth birthday. Though, the fierce intelligence that shot out of his eyes would never make anyone believe he was less.
“Fine.” He growled between clenched teeth.
“Dorian!”
His sapphire eyes snapped to his mother and he ducked his head at her chastising glare, his black hair hanging over his face.
“Sorry.” He muttered, scuffing his foot on the floor.
“I’m sorry, cousin. He has hit that rebellious stage that demands he make everything a battle. I’m lucky to be able to get him out of the outskirts long enough to go to a lesson. He is obsessed with those damn opalaught.” She rolled her eyes at him. “You’d think as a fae, he hadn’t seen a dozen or more in his lifetime. They do breed like rabbits.” The dark haired queen shook her head, her hand placed on her son’s shoulder to keep him from causing another outburst.
“No worries.” The king chuckled, his eyes alight with glee. “I’m sure we will have our own hellion to worry about soon enough.”
The UnSeelie Queen gave him a small smile in return before turning her gaze to her cousin. A frown marred her face as she asked, “I know it might not be the appropriate time but while we are here I was wondering if you had thought any more about that issue we had discussed before?” her voice lowered, her eyes darting around to make sure she wasn’t heard. “About the shadows?”
“No, I hadn’t thought about it and you are quite right now is not the time to be discussing such depressing issues.” The Seelie Queen snapped before letting a brilliant smile that did not reach her eyes cover her face, “It is a celebration after all. The humans can mark this day as Yule for the rest of time but today will always be the glorious day we had a Seelie Princess come into the world.”
The king placed a hand on her waist, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Quite right. Quite right.” He nodded his head, pretending not to notice the way his wife’s magic flared against his hands.
The time to talk about what plagued their realm was fast approaching but for now, the king and queen preferred to linger on happier thoughts. Their daughter would only have one time to shine and they wouldn’t let it be spoiled by talk of shadows and such nasty things.
The UnSeelie Queen nodded in understanding, though she wasn’t content with their answer. She led her son down the dais and into the rest of the party all the same.
“She almost let it slip.”
“But she didn’t,” the king countered, “Your cousin is smarter than you think. She wouldn’t want to cause an uproar in the kingdom any more than you would. Have faith that she will do the right thing.” He brushed his hand along the side of her face with a reassuring smile before his mouth widened as something behind her caught his attention.
“Ah, here he is now. See I told you he would be along soon.” The king opened his arms gesturing toward the next figure in the line.
“Yes, you did. Now go get him.” She gave her husband a little push toward the one they had been waiting for.
The fae in question was an UnSeelie fae that was respected by all the Underground. He wasn’t royalty. He wasn’t even pleasant. In most cases, he was a grouchy old fart who didn’t care about anything but his pipe. One that he had, unfortunately, brought to the Seelie Princess’s celebration.
“Seer, how nice to finally see you.” The queen waved a hand in front of her face, trying not to sneeze at the sickly sweet smell coming from the pipe in his hand.
“Well, I would have been here sooner had you not invited the whole of the Underground.” Seer sniffed taking a large puff of his pipe with one of his six sets of hands, his blue lips puckering around the end. His large belly filled most of the space between them as he adjusted his fuzzy coat a darker blue than his own skin.
“I apologize, old man.” The king clapped Seer on the back with a smile. “We couldn’t hold back our joy. It had to be shared by everyone.” He gestured a hand down to their daughter who had awoken from her nap to gaze upon the blue creature above her.
“I can see why you would.” Seer took a step toward the cradle but was stopped by the queen who held her hand out to him. He looked down at her hand frowning before handing his pipe over to her.
Seer leaned forward placing his top set of hands on the edge of the crib. His eyes an obsidian color gleamed under the lights as he called upon the magic that allowed him to see the future.
The king and queen watched in awe waiting for him to come out of his trance. The thing Seer was known for was just that, seeing things. The past, the present, and the future. All of them were open to him. Unfortunately, dictating what parts he saw was not.
Leaning back from the crib, he held his h
and out to retrieve his pipe. Placing the tip of it in his mouth his face creased in apprehension. Whatever he had seen was not something he wanted to share.
“Well?” the queen questioned, anxiety filling her at his silence.
He puffed out a cloud of smoke being sure to turn his head away from the child and then turned on his heel. He stopped at the bottom of the dais before changing his mind and coming back up the stairs.
“She will be beautiful and loved, like her mother.” His words eased the tension in the king and queen’s hearts. “But there is danger in her future and you must beware.”
“Beware?” the king stepped forward clasping his hand with his wife’s. “Of what?”
Seer became uncomfortable, shifting this way and that. He wouldn’t meet them in the eye as he said, “Love.”
“Love?!” the queen cried out, her eyes dashing around her quickly before lowering her voice. “What do you mean? What does love have to do with it?”
“Your daughter will indeed be beautiful and loved by all that know her but your love will be her downfall.” His dark eyes locked with the queen’s in warning. “Children are a great many things but hold on too tightly…” he shook his head as he trailed off.
“Thank you, Seer.” The king ushered the man away, his eyes lingering on his silent queen.
Once Seer was well away, the king came back to his wife’s side. She had a dazed look on her face as if she wasn’t really there. Her hands were clasped in front of her, a confused frown etched on her face.
“Darling?” the king asked placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Jerking away from his grasp, her eyes cleared and she rounded on him with a snarl. “How could I be alright? He practically just said I was going to kill her with my love!”
“Shh!” he gestured with his hand for her to keep it down, the fae that were still coming through the line were starting to whisper amongst themselves at the queen’s display.
“Calm yourself, my love.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Remember, Seer only sees what might happen in the future not what will happen. And what he says isn’t always what he actually saw. You know this. Don’t take what he said to heart, we will love and care for our daughter as if he has said nothing at all.”
“But that’s what will hurt her, don’t you see?” she pushed his hands away, coming to the edge of the crib. Her eyes gazed down at her little baby girl. Her heart ached in her chest as she watched her smile at one of the brownies who had been making faces at her.
How could she ever hurt such a precious thing? From the moment she was born she had been her world. The very thought that she could hurt her in any way was foreign to her.
“I won’t let anyone ever hurt you. My daughter, my precious Lynne.” The queen held her daughter in her arms, all the love she had pouring down on the little princess. But inside, inside her heart had begun to freeze and ice.
The End
Want to find out what ended up happening to Lynne and her family? Check out the first book in the International Bestselling Series, Chasing Rabbits.
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About the Author
Erin Bedford is USA TODAY Bestseller author. She works as a computer programmer by day and is an avid hobby hoarder. She enjoys playing RPGs alongside her husband as well as inventing nonsensical games for her daughter’s amusement. Erin lives in the Omaha, Nebraska, region and dreams of one day moving where the word snow is nonexistent.
Creating fantastical worlds has always been a secret passion of hers and she couldn’t imagine writing any story without some kind of lovey-dovey or smexy goodness in it.
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Kris Kringle Rides Again
P. Joseph Cherubino
Kris Kringle Rides Again
By P. Joseph Cherubino
Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
Kris Kringle Rides Again
“Did you hear that?” Police Sergeant Philip Truckee asked, taking the stainless-steel travel mug of coffee away from his red, soup-strainer mustache. With a broken heater in the cruiser, he’d taken to cupping the mug before his face and breathing across its brim. He found that this method produced a warm cloud of air around his head and made fog stick to the passenger-side window, which in turn kept his mind away from the sub-zero temperatures outside.
“Hear what?” Corporal Jamal Abdullah replied, while sipping his own coffee from a paper cup. The younger officer shot sidelong eyes at the partner twenty years his senior. He had to be careful not to make eye contact, as Truckee had a disturbing habit of seeing right through him. Jamal guessed that thirty years as a cop gave Truckee that special talent for identifying and calling out bullshit.
Jamal had heard the sound and knew exactly what it was and the strange person who made it. He was early this year. On December 23rd, for three years running, Jamal went down to a dive bar called the Blues Cavern and shared a late-night drink with the man who claimed to be from, “far, far north.” He was so much fun, nobody needed to know much more about him. Jamal had been looking forward to the end of his shift so he could go meet the man once more. It had become a tradition.
Truckee harrumphed and shifted his significant bulk in the passenger seat to attempt a look through the fogged side window. The standard-issue bullet-resistant vest could not contain the round belly that now formed a coffee table.
“Sounds like a motorcycle,” Truckee said. “Who would be stupid or crazy enough to ride a motorcycle in the ice and snow?”
The exaggerated rhetorical tone of the question gave Jamal an uneasy feeling. He suppressed a moan. Truckee wanted to make a bust. The Sergeant worked extra hard to keep the neighborhood quiet before Christmas. His tendency to see every situation as a threat to the public order was magnified during the holidays.
“No way someone ridin’ a bike out there tonight,” Jamal said. The effort to make himself sound convincing failed in his own ears, but Truckee seemed to buy it. He wouldn’t let the issue go, though.
“Bullshit. Bikers ride any time, ‘specially the tweakers. Probably some P.G. County redneck looking to get high. Neighborhood don’t need that tonight. Throws the whole balance off,” Truckee replied. “There it is again,” he exclaimed, this time using his free hand to wipe away the fog from the side window.
“Clearin’ a window won’t make you hear no better, Sarge,” Jamal said with a grin that brought a greater shine to his light-brown eyes. He adjusted the winter uniform hat and his hand brushed against the icy metal of the DC Metro Police emblem. The smile made his round, brown face boyish with the help of amber, sodium-arc half-light sneaking through the cruiser windows.
This winter came on unusually fast and harsh. Late December in Washington, DC, usually saw cold, clammy rain. Instead, they had several inches of snow, followed by a quick thaw, then an equally quick freeze that iced the streets and sidewalks, making them treacherous. It was rare that their calls for car accidents outpaced their runs to assist with drug busts, respond to gunfire, fights or domestic disturbances.
“It’s getting closer,” Truckee said, abandoning his coffee mug and its warmth to the center console cup holder. He slipped on his gloves and used them to clear the windshield.
The sound of a motorcycle engine became too loud for Jamal to deny. It headed their way like a herd of bison. Jamal turned his head in its direction just in time to see the motorcycle, with its ursine rider, round the corner of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Avenues.
In spite of the thin sheet of ice, the rider did not slow down. Instead, he threw the large Harley to the side, hung a buttock over the saddle and extended his left leg, putting a boot to the street. The motorcycle slid around the corner sideways, its operator maneuvering it as if riding a bike half its size around a dirt track. A fan of orange sparks traced the motorcycle’s path as some part of its frame not meant for
roadway contact bit into the pavement. To seal the deal, the rider pulled out of the turn and twisted the throttle back, raising the front wheel as if to count streetlights.
“What are you waiting for?” Truckee shouted, punching on the priority lights. “Get after him!”
Jamal put the car in gear and vaulted from the parking lot of the burnt-out liquor store where they had made their post. The siren wailed as the cruiser’s engine bellowed. The biker was already several blocks ahead. He turned another corner with another dirt-bike slide and more sparks. Jamal pushed the cruiser to suicidal speed and rounded the corner after the crazy rider. The few neighborhood denizens bold enough to face the cold stared on, as they had already stopped to gawk at the rider. The officers saw no sign of the motorcycle down the long block.
“What the hell,” Truckee said. “Where did he go?”
“Don’t know,” Jamal said, sounding unconcerned as he slowed the cruiser while straddling the centerline of the wide Avenue. Several drivers did not bother to slow as they passed the cruiser. It was a clear violation of traffic law, but Jamal let it go. Officers had to choose their battles in the Anacostia neighborhood.
Truckee whipped his jowly face at Jamal. The wrinkles at the corners of his care-worn eyes multiplied as he squinted. The older man turned his head into a swiveling turret. “I don’t hear the engine,” he said. “Go down two blocks. See if we spot him. If not, we park and walk the beat. He stopped somewhere.”
Jamal grit his teeth and complied, letting the cruiser proceed at idle down the block, just a bit faster than walking speed. The cruiser passed darkened alleys and pairs or small groups of people congregating around dive bars and convenience stores. Jamal clocked several obvious drug exchanges and more than a few people who could not resist slugs of liquor from bottles wrapped in brown bags even as the police rolled by.