I spent the next day making garlands. It took longer than I thought it would, but by that evening, I had finished enough of them to cover the tree in the front hall and the tree on the landing. When I asked Conrad for help putting them up on the tallest tree, he offered to do the smaller tree as well. I asked if he needed my help, but he sniffed at me, so I moved on to the long gallery.

Olivia was already there, working on yet another wreath. She’d already finished the wreaths for the front and back doors, but she wanted one for every door that led to the outside. I put my stuff on the large coffee table next to her supplies and sat down on the floor beside her. Darius was at the piano, playing an instrumental version of whatever Christmas song struck his fancy.

You’d think I would have been used to his talent by then, but I wasn’t.

“How did you get so good, Darius?”

“A hundred years of practice, Emerra.”

Anytime the song changed, I’d stop to listen. Then, when I had enough sense, I’d remind myself I had work to do—a lot of work to do, since it looked like I’d be creating most of the ornaments myself.

Not that I was complaining about that. There’s a blissful mindlessness that comes from simple work. Add some beautiful piano music and a few twinkling Christmas lights…well, I would have been content to stay there until January.

Kappa seemed to like the lights almost as much as I did. He’d insisted on following me up to the third floor. The moment we had entered the gallery, he sat down a few feet away from the Christmas tree and stared at it, mesmerized. He’d fallen asleep there, still clutching a hot water bottle to his chest to keep himself warm.

Iset came in from the west door.

“I have the last of the mistletoe,” she said. “Do we need to have Mrs. Park bring in anymore?”

“I don’t think so,” Olivia said. “That should be enough, and this is the last wreath.”

“Did you save any to hang up for kissing?” Darius asked.

“Nope. If you want any kissing mistletoe, you’ll have to call Mrs. Park. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to bring you some.”

Darius’s fingers trailed onto a few wrong notes as he considered the idea.

Olivia didn’t look up, but when I glanced at Iset, I could sense her sly amusement.

The count corrected his playing. “Maybe I will. After all, she’s kind enough to occasionally mention that I’m good looking, and she’s a nice young lady.”

Olivia and I both paused to choke down the idea that a seventy-year-old woman could ever be considered young.

This time, Iset got to share her amused glance with the vampire.

She wandered over to the grand piano and leaned on the lid.

“Sing something for me, Darius.”

“Sing?” He shook his head, then raised his eyes. “A Christmas song?”

“Please.”

“Oh, well. Since you asked nicely.” He cleared his throat as he transitioned to the proper key.

I couldn’t figure out why the tune sounded so familiar until he started singing.

“Stockings are hung with care,

the children sleep with one eye open…

Now there’s more than toys at stake,

‘cause I’m older now, but not done hoping…”

The big faker. Christmas is for children? Ha! He didn’t learn that song in his childhood.

His voice was nice. Not great, but he hit all the notes, and when he looked at Iset while he was singing, I couldn’t blame her for easing closer to him. It must have felt like he was singing just to her.

“So please just fall in love with me this Christmas.

There’s nothing else that I would need this Christmas…”

The way he was singing was so gentle and heartfelt, it made my soul feel kind of gooey. Either that vampire was using some of his hypnotic powers on us, or he was one heck of a performer.

“…I want something that lasts forever,

so kiss me on this cold December night…”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Or maybe he wasn’t performing at all.

Eventually the song wound down, and he finished with:

“…they call it the season of giving;

I’m here, I’m yours.”

The music rose, then faded with a final flourish.

“That was beautiful,” Iset said softly. “Did you write it?”

“Sadly, no,” Darius said. “That particular song is sung by a man named Michael Bublé.”

His answer was quiet. As far as they were concerned, they were the only two people in the room. They didn’t need to talk loud.

The vampire went on, “I think you’d like his work.”

“I think I would.”

Darius looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “What do you say, Iset? Am I as good as that Sinatra fellow you’re always going on about?”

“Almost.”

“Hmmmm. I’ll have to keep practicing. What about that upstart Presley?”

“Easily.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He took one of Iset’s bandaged hands and raised it to his lips.

Olivia elbowed me. Hard.

When I turned to her, she mouthed stop staring and jerked her head toward the forgotten garland in my hands.

I blushed and lowered my eyes to my work.

When Conrad entered the room, the spell was broken. I could feel the moment disappearing and wanted to scream for it not to go.

“Is the next one ready, Emerra?” the wolfman asked.

“Getting there,” I said.

Conrad came over and sat down on the couch I was leaning against.

Olivia cursed under her breath. “I’m out of ribbon now.”

Iset pushed away from the piano. “I’ll go grab some. Emerra, would you like me to bring out the rest of the sewing supplies? I think there are some beads in there.”

“Maybe not yet. I’m getting pretty tired, and I want to finish these.”

“I can show you where they are tomorrow then.”

“Thank you.”

As Iset left, Darius stood up from the piano.

“No more music?” I asked.

“Sorry, Emerra. You’ll have to pull out your phone.” He walked over and picked Kappa up from the floor. “I need to get this guy back to his nest before that water bottle gets cold.”

I watched him go. As soon as his back was out of view, I whipped my head around to stare at Olivia.

“Did you see?”

“I’m not blind, Emerra.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So how long?”

“I don’t know. It was going on before I got here.”

Conrad grunted his question.

Olivia explained, “Darius was singing to Iset.”

There was a doggish huff behind me, then, “Ah.”

“So you knew too?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. You can see it sometimes in the way Darius smiles at her.”

I put my hands, garland and all, to my chest. My crossed legs bounced a few times as I gushed, “That was so, so sweet.”

“You think it’s sweet?” Olivia paused to clip off a stubborn bit of twig. “I think it’s tragic.”

Some people would use a bucket of ice water to douse a match.

“Tragic?” Conrad said.

“It’s not like they can be together.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “They’re together almost every day.”

Olivia paused what she was doing so she could give me a look. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

I thought that was a little rich coming from someone that had spent the majority of her life in a girls-only school for witches.

“You’re sixteen. Have you ever even had a boyfriend?”

“I’m not the one that couldn’t follow the conversation.”

I was about to answer back, but Conrad said, “I don’t think that matters to them.”

“Oh?”

At times, Olivia’s voice was so full of smug off-handedness, it made me want to strangle her. She wasn’t going to argue with you. There was no point. You were just wrong.

“Olivia,” Conrad barked.

The witch looked up.

“Do you really believe that love only matters when you can have sex?”

Olivia’s cheeks went red, and she looked away. “I’m sure it’s none of my business.”

Maybe that was the best answer. It was none of our business. But I had enjoyed that sticky, sappy sweetness so much, now that it was gone, I felt hollow.

Olivia Oliversen, thief of joy.

You know the kind of idiot that always presses on their bruises to see if it hurts? Yeah. That’s me.

“Olivia,” I asked,” do you like Christmas?”

Iset came back into the room while Olivia held up the wreath for inspection.

“I think doing this is good practice,” Olivia said.

Iset handed her a spool of velvet ribbon.

I picked up a few more orange slices. “But do you enjoy it? Do you enjoy the trees and cookies and stuff?”

She shrugged. “Some good old-fashioned paganism never hurt anyone.”

Iset said from over Olivia’s shoulder, “I’m not sure the self-proclaimed agnostic should be allowed to say that.”

“I believe in the gods! I just don’t have much use for them.”

“You sound like Jacky,” I said.

Olivia snipped off a length of ribbon. “The solstice has always been an intensely magical time. I think everyone can feel that. There’s power in the darkness. That’s what I really like about it. And what do you do when there’s darkness? You add some lights.”

When she looked up, she caught me grinning at her.

“What?” she said.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s the Grinch, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mind A Christmas Carol.”

“Muppets or Mickey Mouse?”

Olivia looked like she wanted to smack her forehead, but her hands were full. “Oh my god, Emerra.”

“Let me guess,” Conrad said. “Nineteen-ninety-nine. Patrick Stewart.”

“That’s the one.”

Iset said, “Sir Patrick did a good job in that. It was very close to the book.”

For a brief moment, Olivia’s detached veneer thinned enough I could catch a glimpse of eagerness. “Right? It’s such a good story. Ghosts, horror, regret—the threat of death. Ignorance and want!”

I hadn’t really thought of it that way before. Possibly because I watched the cartoon version.

“Ho-ho-ho,” I muttered.

“The solstice is an intense time. Our stories should be intense.”

“You’re a witch. You’d like any story with ghosts in it.”

“And you deserve to be haunted for that stupid occult stereotype.”

“Says the witch that only wears black.”

“I don’t think the ghosts of Christmas would bother with Emerra,” Iset mused. “She’s neither rich, nor grumpy about the season.”

“Maybe they’ll haunt Jacky,” I said.

“He’s not particularly grumpy either.”

“But he is rich.”

Conrad said, “I don’t think a few ghosts would scare him.” He scratched his neck fur. “I don’t know what would.”

All of us paused to enjoy the image of a bunch of frustrated ghosts and a bemused Jacky trying to understand what they were doing.

I tied off the last of the orange slices. “That’s it,” I announced as I stood up. I glanced at the clock. “Geez, it’s late.”

Conrad got to his feet. “I’ll help you hang it.”

We went over to the tree.

When Olivia finished the wreath, she passed it off to Iset and stood up to stretch. “Goodnight all.”

Conrad and I said our goodnights to both her and Iset. They both left the room, but a moment later, Olivia put her head back through the door.

“Hey, Emerra.”

I leaned around the tree so I could see her.

“Expect the first ghost when the bell tolls one!”

With a whip of long red hair, she was gone.

I smiled and shook my head.

When Conrad and I were done, I went to bed while thinking about stereotypes and ghosts—which is maybe not the best thing to be thinking about when going to bed in a creaky old mansion. While I was putting on my pajamas, my nerves started tingling, and I had to force myself to think about something else.

Anyway, this was Christmas, not Halloween! What was I worried about?

But I must have been worried about something, because when the grandfather clock on the landing chimed one, my eyes opened.

Three ghosts were standing by my bed.

I groaned and covered my face with a pillow.