Fire Night: A Devil’s Night Holiday Novella

I always loved my parents’ house. I was the only one out of my friends who didn’t mind being home.

Michael’s home life had bored and aggravated him, and Damon wanted to be wherever we were. Will had it pretty good growing up, but he’d needed action. If trouble didn’t find him, he’d go looking for it.

I’d wanted to be home, though, and years later, there was still a comfort in walking through the front door of the house I grew up in.

“Ah!” A distant roar boomed as I stepped inside.

I smiled as I closed the door behind me, recognizing Banks’s growl. She was in my father’s dojo, either winning or really losing.

Inhaling, I drew in the clean scent of fresh air and leaves, the whole house permeated by the smell of the herbs and plants my mother grew in the solarium off the kitchen.

I reached out, brushing the philodendron tree and bamboo palm as I walked down the hallway.

While the exterior of the house blended with the English country estate-style of the other homes in the neighborhood, the inside was very different. The uncluttered, clean, minimalist design suited my father’s taste. Natural elements like plants, stones, and sunlight brought the outside in, which helped during the long winter months indoors.

But whereas the Japanese-style favored white and bright, my mother’s influence was evident, as well. Dark teak floors, rugs, and color splashed about here and there. It always felt like you were walking into a cozy cave. My parents were good at compromise, and I always felt safe here.

Candles glowed inside their sconces on the wall, ready for Fire Night. Christmas wasn’t for a few days, and while my parents didn’t really rush to indulge the new yule tradition in Thunder Bay, they knew Jett and Mads loved it, so they obliged.

I brought my hands up, blowing warm air against my chilled fingers, feeling my icy wedding band.

“Grandma…” I heard Jett giggle.

Peering around the corner, I leaned against the door frame and watched my mom turn away and laugh as my daughter threw a pinch of flour at her, her own nose and cheeks dusted with powder, too.

I dropped my eyes, seeing my daughter’s bare feet sticking out behind her as she knelt on a stool and continued kneading the dough. Eight years ago, I could fit those things in my mouth. She was growing too fast, and I kind of wanted time to stop.

Or I wanted more kids.

That was until I went over to Damon’s house and then I’d be running out the front door ten minutes later with a migraine. Their nanny day drank, and I wasn’t even going to pretend that I didn’t understand why.

I watched my mom and my daughter working side by side, just happy they were happy. Mads had come along with his mom and sister, but he was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Probably tucked away in the wine cellar, reading. He had a nook to hide in at every house. A corner deep in the garden maze at home. A closet at Damon’s. The gallery at St. Killian’s. A window seat behind the drapes at Will’s.

While I worried about him in ways I didn’t worry about Jett, I always knew where to find him. He never scared me.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Jett announced, hopping off the stool.

“Wash your hands,” my mom told her.

Jett scampered to the mud room, wiping her flour-coated hands on her little apron, and closed the door.

I stepped into the kitchen. “You’re a good mom, you know?”

My mom glanced at me, pausing with her hands in the bowl.

“You should have had a house full of kids,” I told her.

She smiled to herself, working the dough as I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. I tucked my chin into her neck playfully.

“You were enough,” she said.

“Maybe too much?”

“Oh, yeah.” She scoffed. “Way too much.”

I chuckled, appreciating the jest even though she wasn’t really lying. Getting arrested and imprisoned was hell for them, and I was ashamed enough for the disappointment and heartache I’d caused, but even more so since I was their only child. I hated myself for not doing better.

I glanced down at the small silver pendant hiding behind my mother’s apron. St. Felicitas of Rome. I squeezed her tighter, and she paused, letting me.

She loved being a grandmother.

“They still in the dojo?” I asked, pulling back and plucking one of the slices of a mandarin orange from the little bowl that was probably Jett’s snack.

I stuck it into my mouth.

“For two hours now,” my mother replied. “Go see if she’s still alive.”

“My wife can take that old man.”

I walked toward the hall, feeling my mother’s eyes on me. I stopped and threw a look over my shoulder, shaking my head. “Never mind. I knew that was stupid when I said it.”

She laughed, both of us knowing we still hadn’t seen one person who could take my father.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” I asked her.

I saw her chest fall in a heavy sigh and her hooded eyes shoot me a look. “I feel like a calm evening, thank you.”

“What do you mean? It’ll be calm.”

Her eyebrow arched up, and I bit back my laugh.

Okay, okay.

“Maybe,” she said, returning to her work.

I shook my head and turned, smiling. It had better be fucking calm tonight.

I headed down the hallway, exited the sliding door, and stepped into the rock garden. The miniature trees, bushes, and ponds covered with snow created a peaceful oasis in the open air at the center of the house. Banks and I had created something like it at our home in Meridian City, which was a feat, considering she preferred the wild overgrowth and garden maze of our house here. I favored the more stylized landscape that I grew up with.

Clouds hung low, promising more snow tonight, and I could smell the ice in the air. Devil’s Night was in our blood, but Fire Night was starting to become my favorite. I loved this time of year.

Coming to the door, I slid open the panel and spotted them immediately, sparring in the center of the dojo as I quietly slipped inside and closed the fusuma behind me.

Festivities in town had already begun, and we were going to be late, but my heart swelled, and I couldn’t interrupt just yet. I loved watching Banks and my father. I loved watching her spend time with my parents.

“You’re looking at me,” my father said, blocking her kick.

She charged him, hair that had come loose from her ponytail hanging in her eyes, and sweat covering my dad’s chest and neck.

He blocked a punch, advancing on her. “Stop looking at me,” he barked.

She retreated when she should’ve circled him to gain time.

“When you watch me, you don’t see,” he told her. “You must see everything.”

She growled, throwing a punch and then a high kick, the latter he caught and threw off without so much as a scowl of those severe black eyebrows of his. Mads looked more and more like him every day.

I folded my arms over my chest, remaining in the shadow of the beam that stretched to the ceiling as I watched my wife stumble to the side, breathing hard and already worn out.

We trained at Sensou several times a week. She was in great shape. Or should’ve been.

My father approached her, dressed in loose black pants with more sweat matting the salt and pepper hair to his forehead.

He pulled her back up and stared down at her. “Close your eyes.”

Her back was to me, but she must not have listened, because he said it again.

“Close your eyes,” he urged.

She stood there, and after a moment, I noticed her shoulders square and her breathing even out.

“In,” he said, inhaling with her. “Out.”

A smile pulled at my lips as a few snowflakes fluttered to the still ground outside the windows.

I remembered this lesson.

“Again,” he said.

They both inhaled and exhaled slowly as he waited for Banks’s mind to clear.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed.

Her arms hung at her side, and she continued her steady breathing.

“Do you see me?” he asked. “Do you still have the picture of me in front of you in your head?”

“Yes,” I heard her reply.

“What do you see?”

She hesitated.

“What do you see exactly?” he clarified.

“Your eyes.”

“And?”

“Your face.”

He studied her for a moment and then continued. “Zoom out. Now what do you see?”

“The…the room around you?” she answered.

He inched in, calming his voice. “Breathe,” he whispered. “What else do you see? Make me move.”

She cocked her head a little, like she was watching a scene in her head. “Your arms and legs.”

“And?”

“Your feet,” she said. “They shift.”

Finally, he nodded as if she’d finally seen what he wanted her to see. “If you look too closely, you won’t see anything. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

She needed to see but not specifically, as if everything in her vision, even the peripheral, was the focus. I saw them, but I also saw Frost, my mother’s cat breathing quietly on the rafter above. I could see Banks and my father facing each other, but also the snowflakes almost floating in the air outside.

“Open your eyes,” he instructed.

He took a step back and fell into a fighting stance. “Zoom out.”

Before she could move into position, he stepped and threw a fist. She shot her hand up and knocked it away, and then quickly dodged another fist as it came in.

I smiled.

And then, they were at it. She jumped into a stance, and in less than a moment, fists and feet flew everywhere. Arms and legs swept, flying, and grunts filled the room as he caught her thigh and she landed a fist in his side.

They moved, Banks advancing on him and then him on her, their steps flitting across the mat as they circled each other. One hand knocked away a fist before the other came in and pushed away another.

I couldn’t follow what each of them were even doing, they were moving so fast. Arm up, wrist hitting wrist, and then the kicks flying through the air only to be defended.

It was like a dance.

My heart pounded as I watched a smile cross my father’s face, my breath stopping for a moment, and then…

He stumbled back a couple of steps, she came in with another punch, and he caught her wrists just in time, stopping her.

He smiled, Banks frozen, as hard breaths filled the room and she stared at my dad.

Jesus. He’d stopped first. She’d worn him out.

I covered my smile with my hand, pride swelling my heart. Soon, Mads and Jett would be just like that, and while I’d never anticipated danger in our future, I knew it was possible. I breathed easier, knowing my family was at least a little prepared for anything that might come.

But not tonight. Tonight was for partying.

Releasing her, he straightened and walked up to her, taking her shoulders. They hadn’t acknowledged my presence, but my father probably knew I was here.

Her body moved up and down as she tried to catch her breath.

He gazed down. “Good,” he said in a gentle voice.

She stared up at him, but then I saw her head drop and her jaw flex.

“Now go have fun tonight,” he told her.

I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to Banks as she turned and met my eyes. Tears hung in hers, and she quickly looked away as my father headed out the way I came in, nodding as he passed me.

Tipping her chin up, I looked down at her beautiful face, glowing with a light layer of sweat and her green eyes glistening.

She glanced after my father, Jett passing him in the rock garden and giving her grandfather a salute as he passed. He returned the gesture.

“You’re very lucky, you know?” Banks said, her voice shaking. “He’s proud of you.”

I touched her face.

“You’re so lucky,” she said again, and I could hear the crack in her voice.

Bringing her in, I kissed her forehead as she shook with more tears.

“He’s proud of you, too,” I whispered.

Taking her in my arms, I held her tightly, hating all the memories she didn’t have. How she’d suffered without parents, and how much I’d taken for granted. My father was never particularly warm, but he was far from Evans Crist or Gabriel fucking Torrance. He was a good man, and she was more than thirty years old before she got to know what a real father felt like.

“He’s so proud of you, baby,” I told her again.

Warm or not, my father was never not here for any of us. We were all lucky.

Jett approached, her arms wrapping around us—as far as she could reach anyway—and joined in on the hug. I chuckled, holding my girls.

After a moment, Banks dried her eyes and drew in a deep breath, pulling back a little.

She looked down at our daughter. “Help me with my makeup?” she asked.

But I stopped them right there, telling Jett instead, “Actually, go ask Grandma how to repot a chestnut,” I said. “I need to help Mommy with her shower first.”

“Kai…” Banks chided.

What? I gaped at her. What were grandparents for anyway?

“Aren’t you cold?” Banks slipped her arms around mine, hugging me for warmth.

I inhaled the crisp, evening air and blew out the steam, taking in the snow hanging on the evergreens and the bare, black branches of the maples stretching up into the night sky.

“I love it,” I told her, listening as we stood outside my parents’ house an hour later. “Everything is so quiet.”

I looked down at her, admiring how it barely took her any time at all to get dressed. Her red strapless gown glittered, stunning with her dark hair curled and pinned to the side at the nape of her neck. She was gorgeous.

She and Jett had both decorated their faces, looking like cute clowns with white diamond shapes over their eyes and jewels glued to the points.

I threw the black cloak around her and tied it as she dug into the inside pocket and pulled on her gloves.

“The cold slows the spread of molecules,” I explained. “Less pollution. The air is so clean.”

And quiet. I loved winter the most for that reason. The stars peeked out through the clouds, and you could hear water in the distance, although there was no water nearby. The frozen blanket over the land in the stark night silenced the world so much, you could hear things you normally couldn’t.

It was haunting.

“Snow’s coming,” she told me. “We better hurry.”

Yeah. “Just enjoying the calm before the storm,” I teased.

And I didn’t mean the snow. My mother was right. Drama always went down when the family got together.

Mads walked out of the house, straightening his black tie over his black shirt and suit, and Jett came running past him and up to me.

I scooped her into my arms, her pink dress and white tights picked out by her mom who never wore pink in her life. Ever.

She smiled at me, her white teeth peeking out at me through red lips. “Fire Night is my favorite,” Jett said, looking up at the flickering lanterns lining the driveway.

“You ready to go light some more candles?” I asked.

She nodded. “Can we walk?”

I opened my mouth to tell her no, knowing this wasn’t a quick jaunt, especially with Banks in a long gown and high heels, but…

Her mom tightened her cloak around her and chirped, “Absolutely.”

I set Jett down and took her hand, she and Mads walking between Banks and me as we set off.

My parents’ house was on the opposite side of town from St. Killian’s, and even though the trek would be cold, I wouldn’t complain about getting to enjoy the evening a while longer. I just hoped Banks didn’t sprain an ankle on the way.

The moon glowed overhead as we crossed the street and strolled through the park, more lanterns carving our path with their firelight.

That was the rule tonight. No electric lights.

Not that it was a law or anything we enforced, but everything looked different in the firelight, and I wasn’t sure which one of us set the standard, but everyone seemed to agree it was beautiful.

In no time at all, it was tradition. Once the sun set on the winter solstice, Thunder Bay was lit almost entirely by fire—candles, lanterns, bonfires…

Voices carried on the breeze, the choir at the cathedral singing in the distance and warming the frost in the air and the slumbering roots under our feet.

Gazing left, I saw the fires in the village, much of the town enjoying the festivities and the parade, and slowly, I turned my head, seeing all the flickering flames dotting the town.

Nothing, not even Devil’s Night, was more magical, because tonight was the longest night of the year. It was special.

Snow started falling around us more heavily, and Mads and Jett led the way across the bridge, flakes dotting their black hair.

“Look!” Jett pointed over the edge, out to the river flowing below.

A small tugboat puttered toward us, white lights decorating its exterior, and we all stood there as the kids watched it disappear under the bridge, and then they raced to the other side to see it coming out.

Banks and I stayed, gazing toward the village, beyond which were Cold Point, Deadlow Island, and our resort, Coldfire Inn. The music, the lights, the town dressed in snow… I inhaled long and deep, tightening my arms around her and content to stay in this spot all night.

“I love our life,” she whispered, staring out at the river.

Pressing my lips to her temple, I closed my eyes, feeling it too.

Absolute contentment during these rare moments of calm.

But I sighed, knowing it would take her brother point three seconds to fuck that up tonight.

Michael and Will might take a little longer.

We headed off, crossing the bridge and hiking across the quiet lane over to St. Killian’s, bowls of fire dancing down the long driveway, and torches posted on the house around the perimeter.

Jett’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Rika did it for the kids, but the whole idea behind Fire Night had been Winter’s.

“There’s the boys!” Jett yelled, the snow falling a little heavier.

I nodded, seeing Damon’s kids running around under the canopy of trees off to the side, playing hide-and-seek in the dark.

“Go play,” I told her.

She ran off, hiding behind a trunk, her shiny, black Mary Janes kicking up snow as steam billowed out of her mouth, giving away her position.

Mads climbed the steps and immediately veered up the stairs, his favorite hiding place off to the left.

Banks pressed herself into me, touching her lips to mine and holding it for several seconds. “I need to talk to Em and Rika, okay?”

I nodded, letting her go.

She climbed the spiral staircase, the railing dressed with evergreens and ribbons, and I looked up after her, watching her disappear into the dark gallery above. Then, I reached over and snapped the bud of a rose from the bouquet on the small table and fitted it into my lapel.

No guests had arrived yet, the candelabras still dark and the tree unlit. The kids laughed and screamed outside as the snow fluttered down from the sky, and I walked toward the window to watch them play before all the events of the night began.

But then I heard something above me and looked up, going wide-eyed as I spotted Octavia dangling off the railing overlooking the second floor above.

“Tavi!” I burst out.

Sword in one hand, she hung with the other, her little face etched with anger.

But then she slipped and dropped, and I gasped, shooting out and catching her in my arms. “Oh, shit. What the hell?”

I cradled her, my heart in my fucking throat as I tightened my hold around her small body, my nails digging into her black embroidered pirate coat and leather boots.

I looked down, meeting her scowl. “You okay?”

“I’ll slit your throat, you dog!” And she pressed the plastic blade of her toy sword into my neck.

Oh, Jesus. I rolled my eyes.

I swung her up and tossed her over my shoulder, walking toward the kitchen.

“And you’re definitely your father’s daughter,” I teased.

Zero sense of what could’ve just happened to her. And zero care.

“Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “What were you thinking, huh?”

“I was sneaking up on the vermin!” she explained, trying to squirm and kick out of my hold. “He’s trying to poach me crew!”

I entered the kitchen, sidestepping the caterers, and plopped Octavia down on a side counter, out of the way.

“You need to be careful.” I looked down into her black eyes. “Do you understand?”

She dug in her eyebrows, accentuating the little scar she had over the right eye from a tumble she took when she was two.

“Your parents wouldn’t be happy if you cracked your little skull open.” I walked over to the fridge and plucked out a juice box, slipping the straw in for her. “You dad wouldn’t be able to take it. You know how much everyone loves you?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

I stopped and stared at her. That kind of talk could lead down a dark path I knew well.

I walked over, and instead of giving her the juice, I set it down on the counter and planted my palms on either side of her. “Look at me,” I told her. “I know you’re not afraid. But fear and caution are two different things. If anything ever happened to you, your dad wouldn’t survive it. Do you understand that?”

Barely five years old, she stared at me with a blank look on her face.

“A true captain leads by example.” I tapped her head with my finger. “A true captain uses her head, okay? Someday you’re going to learn that your life can change in a moment. Caution is smart, and smart people find a better way.”

“But how do you learn the difference between fear and caution?” a voice asked.

I stood upright again and turned, seeing Damon lingering in the doorway. He was partially dressed for tonight—black pants and shined shoes, his hair in place. But he was still missing his jacket and tie, and his white shirt had the sleeves rolled up.

“By experience,” he answered when I didn’t.

He walked over, and my spine steeled, because our parenting styles had become just another area in which we strongly disagreed. With anyone outside our family I wouldn’t care, but when my kids were used to more discipline, it was getting harder and harder to explain why his were allowed to swing from the rafters.

“And by guidance from people who know more,” I countered as he scooped up his daughter into his arms.

He looked at Octavia, cocking an eyebrow. “People who’ve surrendered to the rules and lost their imagination, he means.”

I hooded my eyes. “Does Daddy let you cross streets by yourself?” I asked her.

She sucked on her juice, knowing even at this young age not to involve herself in our dumb spats.

“Because, like I said…” I smiled bitterly at Damon. “‘Guidance from people who know more.’”

“And how do you determine those who are worth listening to?” he asked Octavia, but he was really just trying to piss me off. “You don’t. You listen to yourself.”

“And while you’re doing that,” I told her, “don’t forget to remind yourself that choices have consequences you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life. You’ll make better choices with guidance.”

“Did you?” Damon finally looked at me, our stint in prison not needing a reminder for me to understand what he meant.

Prick.

He came from a bad home. I came from a good one. We both still went to prison.

God, I hated him.

I mean, I’d definitely jump off a bridge for him, but…

He took his daughter and his self-satisfied smirk and walked out, and I fought the urge to throw something at the back of his head.

I just saved his kid’s life. Or, at least a few broken bones.

But hey…it would’ve been experience for her. Put some hair on her chest. Rawr.

I stalked out of the kitchen, the sugary vanilla scent of cookies, macarons, and other sweets filling the house as servers carried trays to the dining room.

Madden had joined Ivar in lighting the candelabras, each making their rounds around the house, and I headed into the ballroom but stopped, seeing Damon again.

The lights had been extinguished, the candles glowing across the gold and red floor as holiday garlands of evergreens, mistletoe, and sugar plums draped across the mantel to the right, matching the ones wrapped around the railing of the staircase behind me.

The dance floor was still nearly empty, except for my wife dancing with her brother.

Hanging back, I folded my arms over my chest, softening at the sight of them together. Okay, okay. I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t hate anyone who loved her.

He dipped her back and twirled with her, and she smiled so wide before laughing and throwing her arms around him as he went faster and faster.

I smiled, watching them.

Nearby, Rika danced with Jett, both of them watching their feet as Rika counted, helping Jett with the steps. Her black gown stretched with the small baby bump, now about five months along.

Will’s daughters, Indie and Finn, twirled around the couples, pretending they were ballet dancers, the black feathers in Finn’s hair making my stomach sink a little at the memory. Seemed like yesterday Banks and I were in the ballroom of the Pope, watching Damon’s mother, dressed in her black feathers, move around the floor like a ghost. A chill ran up my spine.

“Kai?” someone said.

I looked behind me, seeing Winter descend the stairs, holding the railing with both hands.

I reached for her, guiding her to me. “Yep, here,” I said. “Did you smell me?”

How else would she have known it was me?

She laughed, joining me at my side. “Mm-hmm. You smell goooood.”

I smiled, turning my eyes back to the ballroom. My son had disappeared, and Ivarsen had joined his brothers, running past us toward the dining room and the sweets, no doubt.

Headlights approached outside, guests starting to arrive.

“Octavia doesn’t want to go to the lock-in tonight,” Winter told me.

“Then Mads won’t go, either.”

“Nope.”

Which was why she was telling me, so I was prepared. As the adults danced the night away or took part in the revelry of the festivities, the kids would go have their own adventure at the theater. Until midnight, anyway, when they could come home and open presents.

Winter had done a beautiful job, making this time of year special. She loved Christmas but always felt the day was bittersweet, because it meant the season was pretty much over. We started our festivities on the solstice now, happy to enjoy that we had days of joy still ahead of us.

“She’s a very lucky kid,” Winter said. “Lots of people who dote on her.”

I nodded, seeing a shadow on the second floor. Mads had retreated to his hideaway again.

“She’s an adventurer,” I replied. “Mads isn’t. He can live vicariously through her.”

“And she loves that she can drag him anywhere,” she added, “and he never gets upset with her. Her brothers are…not so flexible.”

Her brothers were trouble. At least Mads set a good example.

The speakers turned off as the orchestra finished tuning, silence filling the air throughout the house.

“I love that sound,” Winter whispered.

“What sound?”

“The draft of this old place hitting the flames,” she said. “Do you hear it?”

I trained my ears, the wind howling through the floors above us, their gusts making the flames flicker.

The hair on the back of my neck rose.

“Feels like ghosts,” she murmured. “Everything is more beautiful in the firelight, isn’t it?”

I looked down at her, her long lashes draping over eyes that could no longer see anything beautiful, but that didn’t mean anything was lost on her, either. She just saw it differently now.

Turning, I took her hand in mine and her waist in my other, and guided her onto the dance floor. “Hold on.”

Her lips spread into a big smile, and we glided, me leading her to no music as tendrils of hair fell into her face. Her black gown fanned out behind her, and the red ribbons in her hair fluttered.

“You’re pretty good,” she told me.

“Shocked?”

“Well…” She shrugged, not elaborating.

We spun and moved, faster and faster until she was giggling, but she never lost her footing, lighter than air in my arms.

I guess she thought I only excelled at combat, but my mother raised a gentleman, too.

“Never give a sword to a man who can’t dance,” I recited Confucius as we slowed down.

She pinched her eyebrows together, breathing hard. “Why?”

“Because a weapon of death shouldn’t be in the hand of someone who hasn’t lived.”

You can’t speak for a world when you only understand one point of view.

I stopped and stared at her, an idea forming. “I want you to teach Mads and Jett how to dance.”

She cocked her head.

Why hadn’t I thought of it years ago? I assumed getting a good education and learning to defend themselves would make them strong, but I still had time to encourage what made them happy. Mads would hate dancing, but someday, he might value the knowledge.

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

Just then, Damon cut in, taking his wife’s hand and waist in his own. “Excuse me.”

I backed off, letting him in, and was about to go grab my own wife when I saw her heading toward me already.

“Guests are arriving,” she said. “Let’s go light the chandelier.”

Oh, that’s right.

“Jett,” I called, waving my daughter toward me. “Indie? Finn?”

Guests began drifting in, Rika and Michael standing near the door to greet people as coat checkers took the ladies’ wraps and gloves. Emory, dressed in green and her hair pulled into a low ponytail and curls falling down her back, circled the chandelier, handing out markers and basil leaves to all the kids.

Spreading out on the foyer floor, guests moved around them to watch as the kids wrote their wishes for the new year ahead on the leaves in silver marker and then stood up, lighting them on fire with a candle from the chandelier.

“Why do we burn it?” Gunnar asked as Dag dropped his ashen leaf into the copper bowl Emmy held.

“It releases the wish into the universe,” Indie explained.

“Well, I wished for fame last year,” her sister retorted, “and it didn’t come true. I think we’re doing this wrong.”

I smiled, watching all the kids, one by one, rise up and toss their burning leaves into the dish.

“It hasn’t come true yet,” Winter chimed in.

Will started the ritual about eight years ago. A new tradition. A way to keep ceremony in our lives and something fun for the kids to remember and maybe pass on to their own children someday.

My gaze stopped at Mads, seeing him hold his leaf to the flame, but instead of lighting it, he pulled it back. Tucking it inside his suit jacket, he turned to help Octavia, steadying her hand as she touched the leaf to the flame.

A figure appeared on the stairs, and I looked up, seeing Athos descend in an extremely form-fitting silver gown with a low-cut V neckline that I’d have a hard time seeing my daughter wear when she was seventeen.

Her face glittered with gray and white makeup around her eyes, and her hair hung down her back with a pair of small antlers secured on her head, making her look like something from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Alex had taught her how to do her makeup when she was ten, but unfortunately, Alex wasn’t here to suffer Michael’s wrath tonight. She and Aydin were spending the holidays with his family in New York, and we were also missing Micah and Rory, who were in Fiji.

Misha and Ryen were invited, but I doubted they’d show.

Michael walked over, turning to keep his eyes on her as she passed. “You’re wearing that to the lock-in?”

“To the ball.”

“We’ve had this conversation,” he argued as she kept walking. “Twenty-one and over, Athos.”

“Luckily, my daddy owns the place,” she threw back.

I snorted, watching her disappear into the ballroom.

Michael rubbed his face with his hand. “I don’t even know why I try.” He sighed and turned around. “I need to pick less fights, because the more I lose, the more emboldened she gets.”

“You can say no, you know?”

But he just shot me a look like I was crazy. “I didn’t raise that kid to take no for an answer.”

Oh, right.

He smiled over at me, mischief behind his gaze. “So, did you give it to her yet?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Not yet,” I muttered, not wanting Banks to hear. “Can I count on you for a calm night tonight, so I can enjoy my wife?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because every holiday, shit hits the fan over something,” I barked.

He thinned his eyes. “Thanksgiving was not my fault.”

“The Fourth of July was your fault.”

He folded his arms over his chest as the kids finished lighting the candles. “And who gave Thunder Bay’s basketball team your uncle’s trucks last March so they could dump manure all over Falcon’s Well after losing the state championships?”

“Not me,” I shot back, digging out invisible dirt from underneath my fingernail. “I simply left the keys out. I didn’t give them to anybody.”

He scoffed, the guests filling the room around us.

“Besides, we didn’t lose,” I told him. “They fouled. The ref just didn’t see it.”

“Well, the next time you ‘leave the keys out’,” he said, getting in my face and lowering his voice. “Remember, my wife was on the phone with their mayor, getting screamed at for twenty-five minutes.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. Yeah, okay. He had a point. That wasn’t exactly fair, I guess.

“Fine,” I said.

I’d behave tonight, but I expected the same from them. No drama.

The townspeople filled the house, some in masks and others in face paint, dresses and jewelry glittering in the candle light. I did a double-take, zoning in on their eyes to see who I could recognize in their disguises.

Some. But not all.

Something nipped at me. This was no longer smart. People were just walking into the house. No one was even checking invitations.

There was no security other than Lev, David, and a few others circulating the grounds, and there were no guards at the door.

We didn’t invite trouble, but as the years passed, we acquired more. More land, more real estate, more power, more money… And when you get anything worth having, someone would eventually try to take it.

We’d been lucky so far. Too lucky.

“We ready?” Em called out.

But before I could turn back and reply, a voice boomed from the stairs. “‘Lot 666, then!’”

Emmy startled, twisting around, and all of our eyes followed to see a man in a cape and a white mask covering half of his face.

“‘A chandelier in pieces!’”

I laughed, putting my worries aside and recognizing Will instantly. Michael shook his head, unable to hide his smile.

The kids giggled as Will jogged down the stairs, whipping his cape all about. “‘Some of you may recall the strange affair of The Phantom of the Opera.’”

“Daddy!” II laughed.

Will spun in a circle, making eye contact with all the kids. “‘A mystery never fully explained!’”

And then, on cue, the orchestra and refurbished organ above us belted out the dramatic overture from The Phantom of the Opera, making the hair on my arms rise again.

The floor vibrated under my shoes, and my pulse quickened.

Winter couldn’t smile any bigger if she tried.

Someone must’ve flipped the switch, because the chandelier began to slowly rise, climbing higher and higher toward the ceiling as we tipped our heads back to watch.

The flames on the candles flickered with the movement, and the kids started running, twirling, and skipping away into the ballroom.

I followed them in, the guests filtering in behind me, some starting to join Michael and Rika on the dance floor, while others plucked glasses of champagne off the trays of servers passing by.

Emmy carried the bowl of basil ashes, setting it on the mantel next to the menorah before walking toward me, her face still lit up.

She loved lighting the chandelier.

“Your favorite part…” I mused as she settled at my side, watching the room.

“Always,” she said, gazing up the ceiling at the four small, electric fixtures above, not presently being used. “I almost wish they were all lit by candlelight.”

“Too much work,” I told her.

“Affirmative.”

“The Bell Tower is gorgeous.” I looked down at her. “I love what you’ve done with it. Or refused to do with it, I should say.”

She shrugged. “There’s beauty in the history. I don’t want that erased.”

I found Banks on the dance floor, she and Rika with their heads together over something.

“It’s where I kissed her for the first time,” I said, letting my eyes trail over my wife’s bare shoulders.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Devil’s Night.” The memory played in my head. “My senior year.”

The overture ended and the sound system kicked in, playing a soft, haunting tune with lyrics.

Then, Emmy said, “She was in the confessional with you that morning, wasn’t she?”

I tipped my gaze back down to her. “How did you know that?”

She grinned, as if just remembering. “I was there that day. I ran into her.”

“You go to church?” I teased.

But she just looked away, a coy smile on her lips. “I had my reasons.”

Or secrets? Whatever. None of my business.

“The confessional,” I mused. “That was the first time I talked to her, too. That day changed my life.”

“Mine, too.”

“If only I’d fought more for what I wanted.” That day ended far worse than it had begun. “We wouldn’t have missed out on years of being together.”

“Me too,” she added in a whisper.

Banks stole glances at me every once in a while, her red lips wet and her eyes dark. Heat covered my body as images filled my head of exactly what she’d look like wearing only that face makeup.

“I need to dance with her,” I told Em and started to move onto the floor.

But then a young brunette was in front of me, her shoulders bare in a white gown.

“Kai,” she chirped.

I halted, seeing my student looking a lot different than she did in her Aikido class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Soraya,” I said, “You look great.” I took her hand and leaned in, pressing my cheek to her temple for a quick embrace. “Are your parents here?”

“No.” She smiled up at me. “But they are curled up in front of a fire tonight.”

“Good to hear.”

I tried to step around her and say goodbye, but she started talking again. “Thank you for the one-on-ones last week,” she told me. “They really helped.”

She looked up at me with adoring blue eyes, her silky-looking red hair hanging around her. I could almost feel Emmy’s loaded smirk next to me.

Please. The kid was a…kid.

“Of course,” I told her. “Practicing some of the language over break?”

“Yeah.” She clutched her dress, and I looked down, watching her slowly lift the hem off the ground. “I carry it with me everywhere.”

As the dress rose higher and higher, I saw black markings drifting up the golden skin of her leg.

“Ichi, ni, san,” she recited, reading the Japanese numbers like a cheat sheet on her body.

“Yon, go, roku.” She lifted the dress higher, over her knee and up her thigh. “Nana, hachi…”

Sweat cooled my forehead, and I glanced at Banks, seeing her watching us with her eyes on fire.

“Shit,” I mouthed, seeing Emmy cover her smile with her hand.

“Ku.” Soraya continued, the dress damn near rising up to her… “Juu,” she finally said.

I swallowed, my eyes flashing back to Banks, Rika standing next to her wide-eyed and looking almost ready to laugh.

I caught sight of the guys watching me too, their lips moving, and even though I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I could read their shit-eating grins.

I looked down again, trying to not see Soraya’s long leg. “That’s…that’s good.”

She dropped the dress back down. “I know the dojo is closed until after the new year, but I left my bag in the locker room.” She inched closer, and I took a step back. “Will you be in this weekend? Like for paperwork or something? I can stop by. Just really quick.”

Alone? While I’m in there…alone?

I darted my eyes to Banks, and at the same time, she and Rika dragged their fingers across their throats in a threat.

Emmy snorted, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray. “I’ve seen that before. Like brother, like sisters.”

Goddammit. This wasn’t my fault. Banks was going to be pissy all night now.

I sidestepped the girl. “My wife will be in all day tomorrow, taking care of some things,” I told her. “I’ll let her know you’re coming by.”

And I got the hell out of there.

But as I tried to head to Banks, the guys dove in, cutting me off. “Someone’s in trouble,” Will teased.

“Gimme a break.” The kid has a crush. Like I could control it.

I tried to search for my wife, but the dancers were spinning, and I couldn’t see around the guys.

“Dammit,” I muttered, sliding my hands into my pockets.

“Yeah,” Michael added. “Everyone saw that.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, shit.” Damon laughed under his breath as he raised his glass to his lips. “Here come the gloves.”

Huh? I found Banks again as Rika tried to bite back her laugh, clearly talking Banks down as my woman shot glares at the teenage girl.

“See!” I turned to Michael. “What’d I tell you? Shit always hits the fan.”

“Relax,” he told me. “Banks trusts you. So teen queen has a crush on her sensei master.”

“His tutelage marked all around her thighs…” Damon taunted.

“And my wife has knives wrapped around hers,” I whisper-yelled, aware of our guests. “Shit. Look at them.” I gestured to the girls, Winter and Emory having joined them. “They’re planning something.”

Will and Michael chuckled, not moving an inch to stop anything.

“I’m more worried about that young girl than you,” Damon mused.

I was more worried about the night I had planned going to hell. My wife trusted me, but it really pissed her off when other women still didn’t care that I was married. Not that it happened often, but she saw it as a sign of the most ultimate disrespect. In that way, she and Damon were more like their father than they would ever admit.

“Get her away from my pregnant wife, please,” Michael said. “She looks like a bomb.”

Yeah.

I started to move away, but Jett ran up to me and jumped into my arms. I caught her just in time.

“Daddy, we’re going to the theater now!” she announced.

“You got everyone?” Michael asked Miss Englestat, who came up with Dag and Fane in each hand.

“Yes, sir,” she told him, breathless. “Athos is staying behind, and Mrs. Cuthbert has tabs on Madden and Octavia. Everyone else is accounted for.”

Damon’s boys grabbed on for a hug, but Ivarsen breezed past, his thumbs tapping away on his phone.

“Hey, be good,” Damon called after him.

“At everything,” the kid finished for him.

I chuckled. Tree? Meet apple.

“Happy hunting.” I kissed my kid on the nose and hugged her tight. “See you at midnight.”

But she started kicking. “Let me go or Indie will take my seat!”

I dropped her to the floor. “Be good.”

Without another word, she raced toward the foyer, one of the nannies wrapping her coat around her.

As the kids left for the next few hours—set to join the rest of the children in town for treats and festivities at the theater—the music turned a little harder and deeper, and I searched the crowd for Banks again.

But my gaze caught on something as I looked. Someone was staring at me.

Full white mask. Black cloak. Near the fireplace. I blinked and spun around, trying to find his face again as my pulse skipped a beat.

Who—?

None of the men were wearing cloaks. Now that would be overdressed.

But when I searched for him again, he wasn’t there. A chill crawled up my back at the way he’d just stood there, the black hollows of his eyes frozen on me.

“You better go,” Damon said.

Huh?

I turned to him, seeing him gesture behind me. Following his gaze, I finally caught sight of my wife as she pulled on a white, half-mask, covering her eyes and nose, looking to me as she slowly backed away into the shadows. I flexed my jaw even as my groin swelled with heat at how taunting she was.

Don’t you dare.

I started off, following her, the man in the cloak and mask forgotten.

I sidestepped the dancers, weaving in and out of the crowd, reaching her just in time to take her arm.

“Stop,” I whispered in her ear.

She tensed, refusing to turn and face me.

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” she said in a low voice, staring at young Soraya at the edge of the room. “Just freak her out a little.”

“She’s a child.”

“Yes.” She turned her head, challenging me. “I seem to remember being that child’s age the first time you had your hand up my shirt.”

The memory of that mysterious girl in my arms in the Bell Tower washed over me again. “Your shirt,” I pointed out.

Not hers.

She spun around, her green eyes and eye makeup piercing me through the white mask. “I mean it,” she said, inching away like she was something I could never have. “You wouldn’t tolerate me teaching someone who flirted with me.”

“And you wouldn’t let me dictate what you’re allowed and not allowed to do.” I stepped forward as she retreated.

I’d admit, I kind of liked her jealousy.

But then I didn’t.

I didn’t like that it could be coming from insecurity.

“Don’t you trust it?” I asked her.

“What?”

“That this will never end.”

She needed everyone to know that I was hers, when it would save her a lot of aggravation if it could just be enough to know that I knew I was hers.

I stalked toward her, slow step after slow step as my eyes dropped to her tits threatening to pop over the top of her dress.

And believe me, I knew I was hers.

The man in her bed every night. The father of her children. Her partner in everything I did.

“I want to give you something,” I told her.

Couples swirled around us, neither of us blinking as her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

“Come here now,” I said.

But she didn’t. She just kept backing away.

My blood started to boil. We didn’t have all night. There was shit I wanted to do before the kids got back. “You’re pissing me off,” I bit out, digging in my heels. “You know I don’t like making scenes.”

But I would if I had to.

She didn’t give me a chance. As soon as she reached the edge of the room, she spun around, dove through the double doors, and disappeared. I bolted after her, not giving a shit at the eyes I caught flashing our way.

Coming into the next room, dark with only a couple hidden in the corner making out, I caught sight of her red dress as she disappeared around another corner. I chased her, finally seeing her scurry up the back stairwell.

Running up after her, I wound around the spiral staircase, the stones grinding under my shoe.

Just as we reached the second floor and she tried to escape up to the third, I caught her arm and whipped her around, pinning her into the wall.

“Like I wouldn’t catch you,” I taunted. “I don’t even know why you try.”

A taper flickered on the wall, and I stared down into her eyes, my lips hovering over hers.

She rocked off the wall, but I pushed her back and hiked up her dress, pressing my hand between her legs, my fingers on fire as I rubbed her softly.

Jesus Christ. She was bare. Completely bare.

She shuddered but stopped fighting, and I grinned, loving these rare, little surprises she gave me.

No panties was so unlike her.

“What were you and the girls planning down there?” I whispered over her mouth.

“N—Nothing.”

I glided my hand up the inside of her thighs, feeling my dick harden. God, I couldn’t wait.

“Look at me, Nik.”

Slowly, her eyes rose, unable to resist me when I used her real name.

“I want to give you something,” I said, my mouth dry with need. “Reach into my jacket. Take it out.”

I ran my fingers over her soft skin, and then my knuckles, needing every inch of my skin to touch every inch of hers.

She reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapped around a small object.

I stopped rubbing her, but I didn’t move my hand as she unwrapped the gift.

A silver comb laid inside the cloth, the ornate design featuring three rubies gleaming up at her.

“It was my mother’s,” I told her. “And her mother’s.”

It was one of the only things my mother had left from her family. My grandmother had had to smuggle it to her after she eloped with my father.

Her eyes flew up to mine, and I hoped she understood what the heirloom meant.

“The women in my family pass it on to their daughters,” I explained. “My mom wanted to give it to you herself, but she knew that…”

I couldn’t force the words out, but her eyes dropped, her chin trembling. She knew what I was going to say.

Banks hadn’t gotten a lot of gifts from others in life, and none from her own parents. It still made her nervous. My mom knew it might be easier coming from me.

Raising her hands, she fitted the comb into the back of her hair and wrapped her arms around me.

Her nose brushed mine. “I want to kill anyone for trying to take you away from me.”

I reached my hands around her ass, feeling the strap of blades around her leg, and lifted her into my arms. “If I ever leave you, it’s because I’m dead.”

I sank my mouth into hers, proving the only assurance she’d ever need, and I’d do it a hundred times a day for the rest of my life if she needed.

She’d never had shit she had to worry about losing in life, and I was going to break my back to give her everything.

God, she was amazing.

I unzipped my pants, took myself out, and fit myself inside of her, thrusting up into her right there in the dark stairwell.

“Ah,” she groaned, holding on for dear life. “I love you, Kai.”

“I love you too,” I breathed out across her mouth. “I can’t stop. I don’t want to ever stop.”

I pumped up into her hard and fast, frenzied, as I buried my face in her neck and she hugged me.

I registered a screech or something somewhere in the distance, and then howls from downstairs.

“Kai,” she moaned, riding me back. “I think I hear screaming.”

Who cares? I didn’t care. The whole house could be on fire right now, and I wouldn’t care.

I stared into her eyes. A truck would have to drag me off you.