Melt My Heart (A Warrior Wolves Holiday Novella) Chapter Two by Christine DePetrillo

Chapter Two

Flynn Callister burst into the main sitting room at Deer Creek Inn and set the womansicle he’d pulled from the front yard onto the couch. He pulled his jacket from her shoulders then unzipped her own coat. Tossing them to the floor, he grabbed the thick quilt on the back of the couch and draped it around the lass. Next he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“I’m calling 911,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if the woman was with it enough to understand him. Her cheeks were so red from the biting cold, her lips nearly blue, and her clothes were soaked. “Gran!”

Aideen Rhodes, owner of Deer Creek Inn and grandmother to Flynn’s friend and bandmate, Emma, came into the sitting room. As soon as she saw the woman on her couch, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear, what’s happened?”

“I found her outside. She must have fallen trying to get to the front door. She might be hur—” He stopped when the 911 operator answered. After explaining the situation, he hung up. “An ambulance is on the way, but do you have some dry clothes. She drenched and freezing.”

“Of course.” Gran scurried from the room and Flynn turned his attention back to the woman.

“Hey.” He kneeled beside the couch and used his index finger to move aside strands of wet, golden hair. “Can you hear me?”

The woman nodded, but it appeared to sap her energy to do so. Poor lass. How long had she’d been out there? Just how hurt was she? Who was she?

“I’m Flynn Callister and we’ll get you all warmed up, aye. Don’t worry.”

Good thing he’d come to the inn tonight. Every other member of their Celtic rock band, Hendrake, was in a relationship and Emma, Torrin, and Blaithin had taken their mates on romantic getaways as Christmas presents. They’d, of course, invited him to come along, but what was more pathetic than being the seventh wheel? So he’d elected to stay behind and help Emma’s grandmother run the inn for the week before Christmas. In exchange, Gran had promised to make him all the snickerdoodles he could eat.

Which was an unholy number.

When he’d heard the howling earlier, he’d opened the front door, concerned that wild animals were getting a bit too close to the inn. He’d been prepared to fire off a couple of warning shots with Gran’s rifle, but then he’d thought he’d heard a voice out there in the blizzard.

Thank heavens he’d checked it out. This lass could have died out there tonight.

Gran bustled back into the sitting room and shooed him out so she could help the woman change her clothes. When he was allowed back in, the lass was sitting up and looking… hot. She made the gray sweats Gran had given her look like something a supermodel would wear.

That golden hair, though still wet, fell around her shoulders in long waves. She was petite, all her features delicate and feminine. Rich green eyes searched the sitting room before settling on Flynn and making something magnetic inside him pull him farther into the room. Closer to the couch.

Closer to her.

“I… I’m Brooke Myers,” she said after clearing her throat. There was a slight southern twang to her words that enchanted Flynn. “Are you the one who pulled me out of the snow?”

Flynn nodded, too caught up in her to form words.

“Well, thank you. Thank you so much. I was about two seconds from becoming a permanent ice sculpture.” She coughed, a wince scrunching up her face.

“Are you hurt?” He navigated himself to the coffee table in front of the couch where Gran was already standing.

“Her back,” Gran said. “Wrenched it trying to get out of the snow bank. I’m so sorry, lass. Usually everything is cleared, but the snow was falling too quickly to stay ahead of it and I wasn’t expecting any new guests tonight.”

Brooke held up a hand. “I totally understand. I didn’t expect to be a guest. I’m supposed to be at a ski lodge an hour from here with my family.” Her gaze shot to Flynn. “I’m meeting my parents and siblings for Christmas.”

Not a boyfriend or husband? Good to know, and had she wanted him to have that information?

The doorbell rang and Gran went to answer it while Flynn lowered to sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Can I get you something to drink?” He was glad that question came out and not do you want to run away with me?

“Something hot would be wonderful,” Brooke said in a soft, scratchy voice. A rather sexy voice. “I’m so cold.”

“Aye. Coming right up.” Flynn met Gran and two EMTs in the foyer. “Aside from hurting her back and being out in the cold, she appears to be okay.”

“We’ll check her out,” one of the EMTs said.

“Help me get her something to drink, Gran?” Flynn angled his head toward the inn’s kitchen.

“I know just the thing.” Gran led the way and moved around the kitchen as if she could do so with her eyes closed. “What a way for a lass to start her holiday.”  

A dozen other ways Flynn could start Brooke’s holiday flashed through his mind as he leaned against the threshold and watched Gran. As he let a few of those scenarios play out in his mind, he grew heated beneath his flannel shirt and jeans. How could he let his mind wander into that territory? The woman had suffered a frightening ordeal being stuck outside and hurting her back during a blizzard. She didn’t need some guy trying to put the moves on her.

Does she? She had pointed out that the family she was meeting included her parents and siblings. Not a significant other. Why would she specify if she wasn’t interested?

Flynn was totally ready for some excitement. He’d grown so tired of being the only one not in a relationship. Emma had Kole, Blaithin had Vix, and Torrin had Kari. And while he could have hooked up with any number of lasses at Hendrake concerts, eager to score with the band’s drummer, that wasn’t what he was looking for in his life right now. At thirty-four years old, he wanted something like his friends had. Something real. Something more. Something with the potential for forever.

A loud snap in front of his face made him blink and focus on Gran standing in front of him. She held up a mug with steam curling from the hot cocoa it contained.

“Earth to Flynn.” She smiled. “Can you take this to our guest?”

“Aye.” He took the mug and carefully made his way toward the sitting room. With a quick peek around the doorway to make sure he wasn’t interrupting an examination, he entered and set the cocoa on the coffee table.

One of the EMTs shook a bottle of pills at him. “She’s pulled a muscle in her back. Some of these, coupled with rest, and she’ll be as good as new. No signs of frostbite, but she does need some warming up.”

“Which you’re already on top of with the cocoa,” the other EMT said.

But that’s not the only way to warm up a lass…

Flynn shook that thought from his head as he accepted the bottle of pills from the EMT.

“She shouldn’t drive or operate any heavy machinery while she’s on these,” the first EMT said.

“Darn.” Flynn shot her a quick smile. “I was going to have her snowblow out there.” He gestured out the window where the storm was still raging.

Brooke offered him a grin that made her entire face radiant. “Snowblowing is not on my resume. I’m from Texas.”

Picturing her dressed as a cowgirl made Flynn have to bite back a groan. What was wrong with him tonight? He’d pulled one gorgeous woman from the snow and his hormones were all high-fiving each other, ready to get into the game.

He thanked the EMTs and walked them out. When he returned to the sitting room, Brooke had her hands wrapped around the mug. He wiggled the pill bottle. “Want some of these?”

“Yes, please.” She held out her hand and he shook two pills into her palm. After taking them, she looked up at Flynn. “Please tell me you have a room here.”

He certainly did.

Come back tomorrow for the last part of Melt My Heart!

Want more of the Warrior Wolves Series? Check it out HERE!

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

Melt My Heart (A Warrior Wolves Holiday Novella) Chapter One by Christine DePetrillo

Chapter One

She peered through the snow-spattered windshield at the neon sign and hoped like hell there was room at the inn. Had Brooke Myers known a snowstorm of epic proportions was due to hit the area, she would have delayed her trip to Vermont. Of course, traveling north in December was no doubt guaranteed to include snow, but not one meteorologist had predicted these blizzard conditions before she’d left sunny Texas. Her flight into Burlington had been on schedule, but by the time she’d rented a car, the snow had started to fall.

By. The. Ton.

She still had another hour’s drive to meet her parents at the ski lodge. Continuing at this point in the dark and terrible weather, however, was just asking for trouble. If she could shack up here at… at…

“Deer Creek Inn,” she read after squinting at the sign her headlights illuminated. She couldn’t see much of the inn through the white sheet of falling snow, but she’d stay anywhere right now to not have to drive any longer.

Assuming there was an available room.

“There has to be.” Brooke hit the gas and slid into the first empty parking space she found. How many people decided to spend the holidays in the frigid woods of Vermont? Most people were smarter than that. Most people packed their bags and went to a tropical location in the middle of winter. Most people she knew anyway.

That was why she was so surprised when her parents announced a skiing holiday excursion for this Christmas. Normally the Myers family convened somewhere exotic, somewhere south to celebrate. Brooke’s father would simply send airline tickets and resort reservations to his four children scattered about the United States, and it was expected that everyone would show up at the destination, full of yuletide spirit. Brooke was still searching for that spirit. Hopefully it’d show up before she had to actually see her parents.

The last time they’d all been together had been at her sister’s wedding this past summer. Her younger sister’s wedding, where her family had done their best to hound her about when she’d be getting married. Brooke had assured them an engagement was just around the corner because surely her serious boyfriend of three years was about the pop the question. She’d been right too.

About the wrong question.

“Can we see other people, Brooke?” he’d asked on her birthday.

She’d been just about to dive into the huge hunk of chocolate cake the waiter had brought over to their table at their favorite restaurant. “What?”

Needless to say she hadn’t been back to that restaurant since. A shame really. That cake was to die for.  

Puffing out a breath now, she zipped up the winter coat she’d had to buy specifically for this trip. She pulled on a pair of gloves and eyed the front door of the inn. Why did it have to be so far away? The parking lot wasn’t plowed and the walkway wasn’t shoveled. With snow falling this fast, Brooke understood why, but her boots were in the trunk somewhere, buried under all the junk she’d packed.

I’ll just have to make a run for it.

She was at least wearing sneakers and if she stayed in the car any longer, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a room at the inn because she’d be frozen to the driver’s seat.

With a quick thought of warm Texas sunshine, Brooke opened the car door and hopped out of the small rental sedan that had no business driving down snowy Vermont roads. She pulled the hood of her jacket up and took off for the front door of the inn. Heavy, wet snow sloshed into her sneakers, but she kept moving and made it across the parking lot. A laugh bubbled out of her as she thought about her colleagues back at the Silver Saddle nightclub in Texas. They were accustomed to seeing her manage and sing at the club she’d started from scratch herself. If they’d caught even a glimpse of her bundled up and darting through snow in the dark, desperate for cover, they’d fall over in hysterics. Wait until she got back home and told them this tale.

Brooke stepped onto what she assumed was the walkway, but it was hard to tell with all the snow. Everything looked the same bluish white in the floodlights shining from the inn’s porch roof. She trudged forward, putting her arm out to shield her face from the wind and snow.

Which was why she didn’t see that she’d veered off the walkway a bit. Not until she took her next step and her left leg sunk into snow up to her thigh. The rest of her body got thrown off balance and she fell, face first, into the bank. She struggled against the snow’s hold on her and something low in her back wrenched the wrong way.

The blizzard wind swallowed her holler. Brooke tried to break free, but the pain in her back radiated throughout her body each time she moved her limbs. She had to get up though. Had to get out of the freezing snow and into that inn. Had to have someone massage the throbbing ache in her back, in her head, in her…

Brooke’s heart beat wildly as she snapped awake. Crap. She’d passed out from the pain and from imagining all the ways she could die if she didn’t get free. How long had she been out here? Long enough that her strength was at zero and parts of her body had gone numb. She got her hand into her jacket pocket only to remember she’d left her cell phone in the car because she’d been using it to listen to an audio book on the drive.

This would only happen to me. All her family members were probably nestled by a roaring fire at the ski lodge by now. Too bad her family would have to remember this Christmas as The One When Brooke Froze to Death.

A low howl sounded from the dark woods bordering the inn. It sounded like something… big. Brooke pulled the sides of her hood tighter around her face as a second howl echoed the first.

Great. Not only did she have to worry about freezing to death, she also had to try not to look like prey.

More howls erupted from the white-washed shadows, sounding more and more like an entire pack of… dogs? They had to be some mighty huge dogs to let loose howls like these. Did Vermont have wolves? Were they active in the winter?

Did they eat nightclub owners from Texas?

When the next howl vibrated from the trees, the front door of the inn opened, spilling golden light onto the porch. A silhouette filled the doorway and Brooke called out, “Help!” Her voice cut in and out though, and the silhouette disappeared as the door closed. Brooke’s shoulders sagged and fresh pain zinged down her spine.

A moment later the door opened again and the silhouette came onto the porch. It was slightly larger and Brooke realized the person had donned a jacket.

“Hello?” a deep male voice called above the wind. “Is someone out there?”

“Yes!” Brooke’s voice was barely a rasp. She’d already been outside in the cold too long. She couldn’t yell any louder.

The silhouette came down the front steps but was looking toward the other side of the walkway. She had to do something to get noticed or this would definitely be her last Christmas.

Using what little strength she had left, she grabbed two glovefuls of snow—though her back protested at the movement—and packed them together into a tight ball. She took aim and sailed that snowball right into the silhouette’s back where it exploded.

The silhouette flinched and turned around, his gaze connecting with hers. “Oh my God!”

Brooke fell forward just as the silhouette reached her. Strong arms caught her before she hit the snow. A second later, a warm jacket was wrapped around her shoulders and she was lifted out of the bank completely.

A wail of pain escaped her throat as she was jostled.

“You’re going to be okay, lass,” a soothing male voice with just a touch of an Irish accent said. “Let’s get you inside.”

              No sweeter words had ever hit Brooke’s ears. 

Come back tomorrow for the second part of Melt My Heart!

Want more of the Warrior Wolves Series? Check it out HERE!

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

Conclusion of ALL HOLIDAYS MATTER by R.E.Mullins

Conclusion of ALL HOLIDAYS MATTER by R.E.Mullins  

 Screeching Meg stumbled forward and slammed into something hard that went, "umph." By this time her mind had registered the male, familiar, and more-than-a-little irritated voice.

   “You’re a terrible actress." Carter gripped her arm. "It was also hard to believe you had a headache when your eyes are clear, and you're practically glowing with health. Still, Aaron and I were ready to give you dumbasses the benefit of a doubt. That is, until, we went to check on you,” his tone turned was wintry as the temperature. “When you weren’t home it was easy enough to figure things out.”

   “We're doing the right thing,” Meg challenged. “Nobody wanted to get involved, and I’m sick and tired of everyone shying away. It’s time to put a stop to white nationalism once and for all.”

   Carter’s tone dripped with sarcasm, “And you think you can stop a bunch of thugs in their tracks?"

   “Yes,” Meg jerked her arm away. “We record them and splash it all over social media.”

   “Look, kid, it’d take a Christmas miracle—”

   “Chanukah,” Meg interrupted without a qualm. “Time and place, Carter. Time and place.”

    She knew exactly when her meaning hit him. "Right. I see your point. Still—”

   “You know Jesus wasn’t even born in December.”

    Her distraction seemed to work as he stopped fussing to ask, “How you figure?”

   “Well, there are a couple of things. One deals with the shepherds. If they were 'in the fields' the night Jesus was born, then it wasn’t wintertime. The Talmud recorded daily practices of the time, and it details how the flocks were taken to the fields in March and brought home by early November before the winter cold and rain.”

   “Maybe, they were having a warm winter.”

   She didn’t consider that worthy of a reply. “You might find this more compelling.” Sitting back down, she waited until he joined her. “The timeline is set in the Books of Luke and Matthew. Both state, unequivocally, that John’s father, Zacharias was performing priest duties at the temple during Abia. Tal has explained that’s the time of the eighth Holy course in Judaism and ends in the middle of June. Yeah, I think I have that right…I know the part about it ending in June is correct. So, there was Zacharias busy at the temple when an angel tells him that his wife, Elizabeth will bear a son.”

   “And the point is?” Carter grasped a twig that was poking him in the face and handily bent it back.

   “Since it wasn’t an immaculate thing, old Zac had to finish work, travel home, and beget with Elizabeth. Nine months later, ta-da, John the Baptist is born in March.”

   “What does this have to do with Jesus?”

   “Everything,” Meg lightly slugged his shoulder. “This record of John the Baptist’s conception and birth starts the clock ticking on Jesus. The Gospels further document that Elizabeth is six months pregnant—they're quite specific about that—when the angel informs her cousin, Mary that she will bear Jesus. This places Jesus’ conception someplace in December—not his birth. Count forward nine months, and Jesus was born in September. Which,” she finished triumphantly, “fits with the shepherds’ routine as they would still be in the fields with their flocks.”

   “I didn't know that,” Carter admitted. “I do know we celebrate Christmas on the 25th of December because early Christians wanted to assimilate the very popular Pagan celebration of Saturnalia during the winter solstice.”

   Meg sighed. “It’s kind of disheartening, don’t you think? Knowing that the first Christians deliberately chose the dates on our religious calendar simply to supplant the Holy days of other faiths.”

   “It worked, didn’t it?”

   “Pretty much,” Meg agreed.

   “Why does all this make me feel guilty?” Carter asked. When Meg nodded, he must have mistaken the movement for a shiver. “Come here." He pulled her into his lap and wrapped her in his arms.

    Being held was comforting, but Meg found she appreciated the way their feelings meshed even more. “I said the same thing to Tal, but she said guilt wasn’t what she intended. When she shared what she’d learned in class, it was for me to see how all religions have become interwoven over the centuries. Chanukah and Kwanzaa both celebrate holy days in December. Ramadan follows a lunar calendar, but it eventually rolls back into December.”

   “Then there are Pagans and Atheists.”

   “The Pagans," Meg sighed as she rested her cheek against Carter's shoulder. "I think Pagans were hit hardest by Christianity. I'm glad it still exists. In fact, I was surprised by how many still practice the ancient religion."

   “I admit Christians often act as if we have a monopoly on December.” Carter tugged her a little closer. “I didn’t know you were so well versed in these things.”

   “My best friend is Jewish and studying the History of Religion,” Meg answered bluntly. “She wouldn’t allow me to be anything else.”

   “I—” Whatever Carter was about to say was lost as a car door slammed in the distance. “I don’t believe it,” he breathed. “Aaron was positive there wouldn’t be any more action tonight.”

   The crunch of shoes on gravel prevented further conversation. Whoever it was, they were coming from the main entrance instead of using the one directly accessing their targeted side. By coming from that direction, they would walk across rows of graves boobytrapped with uneven ground and tombstones before reaching the short wall.

    “Told ya no one would be here,” a voice crowed. Immediately, Meg started the video app on her cell phone to record them. “You thought they’d be guarding the place, but I said no one would believe we’d hit again tonight.”

    “Keep it down,” another ordered.

    “It’s too damn dark out here,” a third complained. "That’s the second grave I’ve tripped over, and the thought of stepping on dead people creeps me out.”

    “Keep your light off and shut up,” their apparent leader ordered.

    There was something about…Meg's eyes narrowed. Though their voices were masculine, they lacked the timber of maturity. Dropping her chin with a long sigh, she felt confident at least two of the fools were in the High School Science class where she was student teaching.

   Waiting just long enough for the trio to get over the waist-high barrier, Meg surged to her feet. Flicking on her flashlight, she aimed it and her camera at their stupid faces. 

   “Nate, Dan, and, yep, it’s Dylan,” she yelled in disgust.

   Carter also blasted a powerful beam into the boys’ eyes as he relieved a stunned Nate of the sledgehammer he carried.

   “You idiots. Don’t bother running. You're surrounded, "she lied. "Plus I recorded you bragging about vandalizing the Synagogue. So, now you get to spend Christmas in juvie instead of opening presents.”

   “Shit,” Dylan immediately took off with Carter hard on his heels. A moment later they heard the oomph and thud as the college athlete easily tackled the scrawny teen to the ground.

   “Give it, Miz Howell,” Nate demanded the moment Carter no longer had her back. He thrust out a hand for her phone. “Then it’s your word against ours.”

   “Didn’t you hear me?” Smiling grimly, Meg gestured to Aaron and Talia as they approached. “I said I wasn’t alone.”

   “I’m live streaming to the cops, and they're on their way,” Talia announced as Carter returned pushing a sullen Dylan in front of him.

   Aaron indicated the ground. "Have a seat, boys,"

   “Glad that’s over," A gravelly voice boomed from out of the darkness.

   “Dad?" Meg's jaw dropped. She continued to doubt her ears until her mom said, "Me too.”

    “But we enjoyed the history lesson,” Mrs. Baum’s head popped up a few yards behind them.

    The other parents also agreed it was very informative as all eight came forward.

    “And we’re glad Carter finally came to his senses,” Mr. West added humorously.

     Meg was left desperately trying to bury the burbles of laughter tickling the back of her throat. She should have known. As kids, they’d never gotten anything past their sharp-eyed parents.

    Laughing Carter flung his arms around Meg. “That I have, Dad,” he said and planted cold lips on her equally icy mouth in a surprisingly hot kiss while the peanut gallery applauded.

    Meg then grinned down into the three morose faces of her students. “I’ve got a great idea,” she told them. “While we wait for the police, Talia is going to repeat the history surrounding the birth of Jesus.”

    “Excellent,” Carter said and kissed her again.

Part Four: December 25th 11:27 Late Christmas morning

    Meg stirred as her waking mind became flooded with everything that had happened. She found, with a start, that she was on her couch, fully dressed, and half-draped over an equally clothed Carter.

    He’d stayed.

    Beneath her cheek, she felt the rhythm of Carter’s breathing change. Lifting her head, she was just in time to see him slowly opening his eyes.   

   “Hey you,” she whispered.

   “Hey,” he whispered back and hugged her to him.

   A minute later, Aaron's surprisingly beautiful baritone could be heard outside her door. It took Meg a moment to decipher the new lyrics inserted into the badly mangled tune.

    “Not having my baby—” he sang, and then a cringe-worthy, off-key Talia chimed in, “It’s a wonderful way to say I got my period.”

     Meg doubled over with laughter at Carter’s pained expression.

    “I’ll never be able to listen to that song the same way again,” he complained.

    “We discuss everything around here, so get over it,” Meg planted a kiss on his pouty lips. “That is if you planned on sticking around.”

    “I am.”

        With a big smile, she disengaged herself from his arms and headed for the door. It looked as if she and Tal had gotten their miracles after all.

                                                                                The End.

 To find other things R.E.Mullins has written or is writing, visit: remullins.com

Buylinks:   The Wild Rose Press 

                   Amazon

The Blautsaugers of Amber Heights series. Full length novels. This family of vampires faces humorous and dramatic trials and tribulations while searching for their happily ever afters.

 Novellas written by R.E.Mullins

This sweet and funny story is about a tough vampire enforcer 

faced with a two-year-old human boy. Who will prevail?

Demon, Eli Grayhart must get back to Hell in order to settle a score.

Fae, Keeda knows it's only a matter of time until he seeks her out

for revenge.

Second Installment of ALL HOLIDAYS MATTER by R.E.Mullins

Second Installment of ALL HOLIDAYS MATTER by R.E.Mullins

    

“Come on.” Aaron drew Talia toward the doorway. “Mom’s got the great room set up for dancing.”

   “Dance with me?”

    Being hit by the blast of Carter’s smile, Meg blinked, was enough to dazzle the eye. Backed into a metaphorical corner by good manners—especially in front of their families—she was prevented from any snarky replies. That meant she couldn’t come back with, “I wasn’t good enough for you before, and you aren’t good enough for me now.”

    That made it a dilemma she hadn’t anticipated. Yes, she’d enjoyed their conversation at lunch, and it had brought back remnants of the bond they’d once shared.

    Illogical or not she wasn’t sure how to fully release a grudge festering for four years.

    However, fate had stacked the cards against her, and she accepted the inevitable. They joined the other couples right as an upbeat number ended. “Give us a break,” Aaron hollered at his cousin manning the tunes. “Slow it down.”

    Carter took Meg’s hand and curled her under his arm in a slow twirl designed to have the partner ending in the closed dance position. It was a move learned during their mandatory and much hated Middle School Cotillion classes. Which, judging by his smirk, he also remembered.

    A haunting melody stirred the air. Carter slid his palms down her arms to her hands which he then lifted to place demurely on his shoulders. Then lightly holding her waist, he swayed them back and forth in time to the music.

    Moments later, he bent her backward in a low dip. The illusion of falling made her gasp and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

    His low chuckle sent a breath of warm air along the rim of her ear. “That’s better,” he said and slowly danced them across the room until they were near the large, bay window. “Look,” his voice softly rumbled beneath her cheek. “It’s snowing.”

   She looked, and it was, and it was lovely. On a soft sound of awe, Meg watched fat white flakes drift down from the heavens.

    “For the last couple of years, I've been bugging Aaron to tell me why you always avoid me,” he said. At her jolt, he seemed afraid she might take off and started talking faster, “He finally fessed after lunch and told me what you overheard…God, Meg, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse. I was stupid and immature. But, please know I didn’t mean it, and I hate that I hurt your feelings."

    “Tal always said it was because Jenny Grady let you touch her breasts.” The quip popped out of her unruly mouth.

    “There is that.” His grin flashed before he turned serious again. “Let’s clear the air. I need you to forgive me and be my friend again.”

    "Friends, sure."

    “It’s not that I didn’t consider you cute, sweet, and smart back then. I did. I always have…It’s just, well, some relatives were urging me to ask you out, and I thought of you like—well, more of a kid sister than a potential girlfriend.”

    "I get it, Carter. Sometimes familiarity breeds contempt."

    "Contempt? Never. No matter how it sounded." Carter rested his forehead against hers. "Since I was too stupid to ask you out before—will you let me take you to dinner while I’m home?”

    The yes trembling on her lips died when Tal interrupted. “Come on,” She ordered and clutched Meg’s arm. Within moments she had tugged her out of the room, down the hall, and into a little powder room.

    “I see you’ve forgiven Carter.” Tal closed and locked the door. “I guess most seventeen-year-old males go braindead after touching their first set of boobs. Golly, I remember how Aaron reacted. Do you think, from the moment a boy gets weaned, he starts a quest back to the nipple?”

    “Is that what you dragged me in here to discuss?” Meg perched on the edge of the sink. “And since when have you bought into this blaming the woman crap? It sounds like a guy’s convenient excuse for making unwanted sexual advances.”

     With Tal momentarily silenced, Meg dramatically placed a hand on her heart. “I couldn’t help it, your Honor. Look how she's dressed. So what if I run around without a shirt? It’s her short skirt that causes my lack of control.”

    Getting into the spirit, Tal chimed in, “It's her fault for sheltering my unformed fetus inside her body until I could survive on my own. That’s the reason I have this primitive urge to return to the womb. And if she hadn’t nourished me with milk from her breasts, I wouldn’t have an oral fixation."

    "Besides,” Meg held a hand to the side of her mouth and stage-whispered, "us men got together and decided to blame all our shortcomings on the female. I know you know it’s true because I saw you at the meeting."

    Tal’s laughter slowly died. “You know? That’s too true to be funny."

    "It is. Now tell me why we’re here.”

    “You’re going to get a headache, and I’ll take you home.”

    “Why don’t you get a headache?”

    “Because Aaron will insist on taking care of me. He’ll be okay with me helping you.”

    It made sense. However, Meg frowned as she slid off the vanity to her feet.

   Tal noticed. “What’s the matter? You chickening out?”

   Cocking her hip, Meg sneered, “Have I ever? I was thinking we better dress warm if we're going to be outside for any length of time."

    Relief poured over Talia’s face. Crossing her heart in the time-honored tradition, she vowed, “I’ll never doubt you again.”

    “At least not until the next time.”

    “You got it. Okay, here’s what we’ll do…”

    Close to an hour later, Meg was stuffing herself at the buffet with the guys when Talia joined them. Idly, her friend picked up a black olive and ate it. Taking her time, she selected another one, but this time she paused with it halfway to her mouth.

   "You feeling okay?" She made a show of placing her palm against Meg’s forehead. "You're a bit flushed."

   Oops, Meg choked down a bite of under-chewed spinach tartlet. Somehow, she'd gotten sidetracked from the plan. “Uh. Yeah. Um...headache,” she stammered. To further seal the deal, she pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a gesture she'd once seen an actor make during a migraine commercial to demonstrate his massive pain.

    Talia placed her hand maternally on Meg’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Turning to Aaron, she announced briskly, “I’ll take her home, give her some pain relievers, and stick around until they take effect.”

    A very confused looking Carter cupped Meg's chin in his hand and peered into her clear eyes. After a moment, he said kindly, “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’ll call tomorrow to make sure you’re on the mend and to firm up our date.”

    Aaron seemed oblivious to any subterfuge. He slapped Carter on the shoulder. “Come on, dude. We’ll walk the ladies out to their car, so Tal can get Meg home and medicated.”

   Raising up on her tiptoes, Talia planted a kiss on her fiance's mouth. “Thanks, Sweetie. I’ll sit with her until I know she’s better.

   "Call."

   "I will," Talia promised, "if I don't fall asleep on her couch.”

Part Three: December 24th 11:05 p.m.

    The friends entered the Hebrew section of the cemetery on foot. They wore layers of insulated clothing and were packing cell phones, flashlights, and thermoses filled with coffee. Their spirits were filled with grim determination, and their bodies were too cold to register fear.

    The original town planners designed the graveyard in the shape of a capital L with those considered unworthy of spending eternity planted alongside uptight, white, Christian corpses relegated to the leg. A low stone wall further divided the two sections. It was as if the bigots had been afraid the ghosts might mingle.

    The plan was simple: set up sentry stations on either side of the Hebrew funerary grounds and keep them under surveillance. After that, all they had to do was remain hidden and film any trespassers. 

    “There’s a good spot.” Meg pointed her flashlight at a scraggly trio of shrubbery where the exterior fence met the interior barrier.

    “You take it,” Tal told her. “There’s a Willow over there," she gestured. "If I sit under the droopy branches I’ll look like part of the tree trunk.”

    Meg hesitated but needed to ask the question bothering her, “I get that the place used to be segregated but that can’t be legal now. Why hasn’t someone demolished this barricade?”

    “We no longer have to be buried over here. Now we choose to be.”

    “But why?”

    “I don’t know. Tradition, maybe?” She motioned to the gentile section. “It’s a little problematic to be buried over there if you want to spend eternity next to your granny.”

    “Oh,” Meg mumbled. “Well, that sucks.”

    When Talia left for her lookout post, Meg stifled a strong urge to call her back. She found she didn’t like them being so far apart. Splitting up might be the best way to monitor everything, but there was safety and comfort in numbers. Her anxious eyes followed the small circle of light indicating Tal’s progress until it winked off.

   The darkness blanketing the ground seemed complete. Eerie gray snow clouds were doing their best to shroud the moon and stars, and an icy breeze lifted the ends of her hair in a sinister way. Meg shivered and huddled between wall and bushes as a windbreak.

   It was quiet. Too quiet. Not long after the timeworn catchphrase from countless horror films played through her mind, she thought she heard something. Footsteps? If anyone showed, Meg needed to be able to see them to get a clear video of the action. Eyes and ears straining, Meg rose to her knees and looked around.

   Even with her senses on high alert, she didn't detect any movement. Squeezing back into her hiding spot, she'd barely gotten settled when she heard the slight rustling again. This time she stood all the way up, but still saw nothing.

    It had to be the wind. Yeah, blaming the wind was good. It was, after all, the most probable and indeed the most innocuous explanation for any and all strange noises. Satisfied with her answer she was ready to sit back down when a voice broke the night, “Not cool, Meg.”

     ***********************************************************************

Come back tomorrow for the conclusion of ALL HOLIDAYS MATTER by R.E.Mullins

To see what else the author is working on go to remullins.com

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The Blautsaugers of Amber Heights series

Novellas by R.E.Mullins

 A steely vampire enforcer encounters a two-year-old human. 

Who will prevail?

 To settle a score, the demon, Eli Grayheart must get back into hell. 

 To protect herself, the Fae, Keeda, must keep him out.