Jackson Pearce - Cold Spell

We sit in the hallway in peaceful silence, curled against each other, until I finally rise and offer a hand to Kai. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Do they hate me? I mean, since I almost got them killed, too?” he asks, voice weak. He gives me a worried look, as if he knows how silly this sounds yet can’t help but ask.

“Lucas and Ella don’t hate anybody,” I say. “And the others sort of hate everybody. But not really. Usually.”

Kai smiles a little, allows me to help him stand, and we go back into the hotel room. The others look up immediately, as if we’re walked in on a conversation. They eye one another as I lead Kai to the edge of the bed, where we both sit down.

“So… we’re taking bets.” Callum breaks the awkward silence, rolling a coin between his knuckles as he speaks.

“On?” I ask.

“Him,” he says, pointing to Kai. “We’re betting on whether or not you’re going to turn into a wolf again.”

“I’m not sure,” Kai says slowly, glancing at me. “I think… I could. If I wanted to.”

“I think you could, too,” Flannery says. “I’m positive. Try it.”

“Quiet, you can’t bait him,” Lucas says, throwing a pen at her. “Against the rules.”

“I’m just suggesting ,” she hisses back.

The room stares at him, waiting.

“I’m not going to do it now ,” Kai says, rolling his eyes. The Travellers grumble and slowly fish into their pockets, then slap money into Lucas’s outstretched hand. He grins, folds the money, and sticks it in his back pocket.

“And to think,” Flannery says, folding her arms and glaring at Kai, “I fought a werewolf for you.”

“Sorry,” Kai says, shrugging. “Maybe I can pay you back for it someday.”

Flannery snorts and shakes her head. “Not if I can help it.”

There were plenty of reasons to love the winter.

Fireplaces. Stews. But most of all— at least, this year , Ginny thought—Christmas.

Most of the neighborhood houses were covered in pretty but simple decor—candles in windows, wreaths on doors, and perhaps some tasteful white lights on a single tree in the front yard. Lucas and Ella’s house, however, was covered in lights of every color and size. Some blinking, some not; some white, some rainbow-colored; some trees covered in a strand or two, some trees covered in so many that it looked like the entire thing might catch fire. The lights looked out of place on the mansion, but no more so than the VW bus parked in the driveway.

Ginny pulled the station wagon up beside the van and jumped out, cringing at the temperature. It had been over a year, but there was still always something frightening about the first moment she stepped out into the cold. It passed quickly, of course—this cold was simple, easy. Something that could be ignored or beaten by a decent coat. Ginny inhaled deeply, let the air warm in her lungs, and then walked toward the front door. The house was glowing, and even though Ginny had only been here a handful of times in the past year, it looked—and felt—like home. She lifted a fist and rapped on the door, though there wasn’t much need—someone was already racing from upstairs to open it.

Flannery’s long dark hair was no longer a tangled, frizzy mess; it was curled neatly into long spirals. Her clothes were new—still mismatched and layered—but her eyes were bright and her grin as wicked as before. Flannery jumped down the last few steps, the impact rattling the framed pictures on the foyer walls. She flung the door open and yanked Ginny inside, hugging her hard.

“Your hair!” Ginny said when she pulled away.

Flannery snorted and motioned to her head. “I know, I know. It made Ella really happy to do it so… whatever,” she says.

“It did make Ella really happy. But Flannery also asked her to do it,” Callum said, walking down the stairs behind Flannery, grinning. Flannery turned around and punched him in the chest hard enough to make Callum cough. “Ginny,” he greeted her, wheezing a recovery.

“It looks beautiful, Flannery,” Ginny said. “Don’t you like it, Callum?” she added pointedly.

Callum looked at the two of them as if they were crazy. “Flannery,” he said, shaking his head, “is always beautiful.”

“Well played,” Flannery admitted, and leaned forward to kiss him quickly. She then turned back to Ginny. “He’s not here yet,” she said, answering the unasked question. “His flight got delayed.”

“How long?” Ginny asked, and Flannery shrugged.

“It can’t be more than an hour,” Lucas said, walking out from the living room. “Come on. Ella bought cake and is going to pretend she made it. Play along.”

“Seriously,” Callum says, nodding. “Play along. There was an incident earlier today. Though I don’t think you can smell the smoke anymore, can you? Or am I just used to it?”

They walked into the living room; Ginny caught a glimpse at the kitchen, where Ella was hurriedly throwing away a bakery store box. Upon seeing Ginny she rushed into the living room, hugging her so hard they toppled against a leather armchair and dissolved into laughter. They finally settled, Ella and Ginny on the chair and ottoman while Lucas, Flannery, and Callum took up the couch.

“Tell me something!” Ella said. “Something new.”

“I talk to you every week,” Ginny reminded her. “There’s nothing new to share.”

“Come on, there has to be something. Have you thought any more about what you’re going to declare your major as?” Ella asked, tucking her feet underneath her.

“Still not sure,” Ginny said. “But I took a philosophy class last semester. Maybe that? I might try a few more weird classes, just in case something sticks.”

“I’m telling you,” Lucas said. “You. Me. Private investigation firm.”

“She can’t major in ‘private investigator,’ ” Ella argued.

“I didn’t say she should major in that,” Lucas said. “It’s a post-college business venture. I’m just saying that between Ginny and me, we could find anyone. We tracked down a mythological creature, remember?”

“ Ginny tracked her down, mostly, if I recall,” Ella said, but when Lucas looked offended she poked him with her toes playfully, and he smiled.

“What about you?” Ginny asked Flannery. “You said this was temporary. Actually, no—if I remember, you said you’d rather be back in jail than spend a week in a buffer house.”

Even as Lucas and Ella snickered, Flannery blushed, hard, something that looked foreign on her face. “Actually, we’re going back,” Flannery says, glancing over at Callum. “Not because of the house. This house is fantastic. Have you seen how deep the bathtub is?”

“I seem to remember it,” Ginny said. “When are you going?”

“A month or so,” she said. “We talked with Ardan and Declan the other day. They say my mother’s crown isn’t exactly secure, since I left. People wonder if she can run a camp, if she can’t run her own daughter. I’m not letting that happen, obviously, so I figure we’ll go back and remind them exactly why the Sherlocks are queens. They might turn us away; they might not. I’m not sure.”

“Are you going to tell them the truth about Grohkta-Nap?” Ginny asked.

Callum laughed a little. “Baby steps, Ginny. They’ll come around—they’re good people, smart people. But we’ve got to make them accept an unmarried princess, first.” Despite this, Ginny noticed that he was still wearing his wedding ring, and that Flannery’s was still on a chain around her neck.