Page 19 of Blood and Bells

It’s possible I feel sick. For her.

And then Frank winks. He winks, like this is all just a fun little puzzle we’re supposed to solve.

“You’ll see.”

I stare at him. Holly stares at him. There’s no need to look at her to know she’s about three seconds away from a small festive detonation.

“Frank,” I say, doing my best impression of a reasonable man, which is becoming increasingly difficult, given my vampiric tendencies and proximity to Holly. “If this tree is such a big deal, why not just tell us why?”

Frank shoves a fry into his mouth, and his power starts to gather around us. He’s talking to both of us, but the message lands differently for me. He lets the words out slowly.

“I told you it matters.”

Holly looks like she wants to bang her head against the table. Personally, the idea of introducing Frank’s head to the concept of gentle honesty has a strong appeal. Repeatedly. Maybe then he’d stop being so damn cryptic.

And only now does it occur to me that this is about more than protecting our place in Willow Creek. That was the sensible reason. The one I could admit to. I’ve been telling myself I’m doing this to make sure the coven stays settled and we weren’t blamed when things went wrong.

I’m doing this because Holly needs me.

Whether she knows it or not, this needs to be handled.

All of which is, quite frankly, concerning—because it suggests caring is involved.

And caring is the first step down a slippery slope that ends in feelings. And I don’t do feelings. Or launching myself into oblivion like some ski jumper hurtling down toward disaster. I do brooding. Smirking. Ominous lurking in shadowed doorways. But apparently, Holly Frost has single-handedly started to dismantle my carefully cultivated persona, and it remains unclear how I feel about that.

Probably best to pretend it’s not happening.

This strategy has never failed me, except when it has.

“I’ll let you two work out the details,” Frank says, abruptly back to the cheerful mayor. “You have it under control, Holly. I know you do. I would hate to step in if you cannot get this done. That would be very disappointing.”

Holly nods automatically, but her hands are clenched in her lap, and when Frank turns away, she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for an hour.

I watch him go, still trying to decide whether it would be worth the paperwork to escort him outside for a brisk chat in an alley. Eventually, I turn back to Holly.

“You okay?”

She huffs out something like a laugh. “Oh, I’m peachy. Love a good impossible task with zero context. Really gets the blood pumping.”

The server appears with two hot chocolates, unasked, each crowned with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Holly wraps both hands around one as if it might argue.

There’s a tension in her voice, an exhaustion she’s trying to hide under humor, and it makes something in my chest tighten. I hate that Frank put this all on her without so much as an explanation. I hate that she’s just taking it, like she doesn’t have a choice.

I drum my fingers against the table. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight. But I do know a place that serves a very strong drink.”

Her brows lift. “You mean Hemoglow?”

“The very same.” I flash my best smile. “C’mon, Frosty. Let’s get you a civilized drink. Tonight’s on me.”

She sighs, but there’s the tiniest curve to her lips, like she’s trying not to smile. “I’ve never been to Hemoglow. I’m not sure I approve of a blood bar.”

I adjust my shirt and put on my most charming six-out-of-ten smile.

“Even better. That means if you enjoy yourself, you’ll have to admit I was right.”

She gives me a long, considering look, then finally stands. “Fine. One drink. But if you try to sell me a membership package, I will deploy a candy cane in a manner you won’t enjoy.”

“Fair enough,” I say, offering my arm.