TWENTY-ONE

B LYTHE

Christmases with her family had never gone quite as Blythe intended, but she was beginning to believe that was part of their charm.

She awoke on Christmas morning to an empty bed and a house that smelled of cocoa and warm gingerbread.

Blythe practically burst from her sheets, too eager to so much as run a brush through her knotted hair before she threw on a robe and followed the soft laughter and chattering of her family into the dining room.

A feast lay before her—poached eggs and truffles, Christmas pudding, savory pies and roasted pheasant.

Sun streamed in through a frosted windowpane behind the table, bathing a plate of orange-and-honey scones in an almost holy light.

Elijah sat at the head of the table, backlit by the sun.

Aris sipped coffee to his right while Signa was to his left, adding a thick layer of clotted cream to her scone.

Sylas was filling Elijah’s teacup, and even though Blythe knew for a fact that her father found the presence of Death in his family a tad concerning, he did his best to make Sylas comfortable, even while the two of them couldn’t communicate directly.

Sylas, for his part, made a concerted effort to communicate with Elijah by way of notes, as intent on impressing him as if he were Signa’s own father. Even then he scribbled something onto a slip of paper and set it before Elijah, who read it quickly and shook his head.

“I’m quite well on food, thank you, Sylas.”

Aris rolled his eyes. “Toady,” he muttered under his breath, spluttering a second later when the coffee he’d been sipping spilled onto his lap, guided by a burst of shadows.

“I would be kind to me today, if I were you,” Death told him as Aris glared murder at his brother. “I’ve gotten you the most wonderful present, and I could very easily send it back.”

“I wish you would,” Aris huffed, to which Blythe stepped forward and fully into the dining room.

“You most certainly do not,” she told him as she moved to stand behind her husband’s chair, a bundle of nerves when Sylas slid her a questioning glance. She nodded, heart racing as he flickered out of view a second later.

Aris, already having magicked himself new pants, leaned back in his chair as if he hoped it would suddenly save him from the present exchange by swallowing him whole.

Signa continued eating without pause, though two curious lines etched between her brows as she explained what had just happened to Elijah, who appeared to be trying not to laugh.

Sylas returned several minutes later, grunting and with more tears in his shirt. He held a fat black cat out before him in gloved hands, the beast hissing and smacking at the shadows he had to use to control it. He’d tied a beautiful red bow around its neck, at which the cat clawed.

“This thing is your problem now,” he said, letting the cat plop to the floor. It landed easily on its feet and shook itself off, growling low in its throat as its deep green eyes surveyed the room.

Aris bent to get a better look at the creature.

“You brought me a cat ?” He set his coffee aside, eyes tight.

The cat glanced back, but something strange happened as it did.

Its bristled fur began to lie flat, and while it had been rigid and growling seconds before, it now ever so slowly padded its way to Aris.

The cat lingered several inches from his leg, sniffing, and then brushed up against Aris with a purr so loud that it sounded as though the table was shaking.

Aris’s body seized, every muscle seeming to lock in place.

His breath hitched in his chest, and with a shaking voice he asked Blythe, “Are we opening our home to strays, now?” The cat paused its purring to mew at Aris, who swallowed hard.

His gaze never left it, and Blythe understood that he knew who he was seeing. Knew, but did not believe.

“This is no stray.” She set her arm on his shoulder and squeezed tight. “You opened your home up to this beast long ago, Aris.”

Never had Blythe seen Aris crack quite the same as he did in that moment. Her husband pushed from his chair with a clatter, startling the cat. He was down on the floor beside it before it could flee, capturing it in his arms.

“Beasty?” Aris whispered, cradling the suddenly placid cat against his chest as though it were a child.

Blythe had gotten closer to Beasty after Aris’s passing, though it had still always preferred Elijah and its original owner to her.

Were she to cradle it as Aris was, Blythe was certain the cat would gouge out her eyes.

“It’s her,” Blythe promised him, a delightful warmth blooming through her chest. “Or at least a version of the fox you knew. It seems she’s testing out being a cat in this life.”

There were tears in Aris’s eyes. Beautiful, glistening tears that made Blythe’s throat squeeze. She reached for her husband, settling her palm against his arm as she stared down at Beasty’s face. The cat was perfectly content there in Aris’s arms, half-lidded eyes blinking slowly up at him.

“How?” He spoke as softly as the dawn, so fragile his voice threatened to crack. “How is she here? How did you find her?”

“It was your wife’s doing,” Death told him, and Blythe felt a flutter in her stomach as all eyes turned to her.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to identify and chase down souls ever since you left us,” she admitted.

“I’m not very good at it yet. I was never able to find you, but a few weeks ago I felt the stirrings of someone familiar.

I couldn’t pinpoint a precise location, but Sylas helped me narrow it down.

I thought I might have finally figured it out, but I wasn’t certain—”

The next words were knocked out of her with a gasp as Aris crushed Blythe against him in a hug.

Smooshed between them, Beasty yowled and squirmed her way out of Aris’s arms, moving instead to Elijah with a haughty twitch of her tail.

Elijah happily obliged, stroking beneath the cat’s chin as she hopped into his lap and curled herself into a cozy ball.

“Thank you,” Aris whispered against Blythe’s hair, still crushing her against him. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

Blythe melted into his embrace, winding her arms around Aris and holding him close.

He was stubborn, this husband of hers. Too stubborn and prideful to admit how deeply it hurt him to have lost Beasty without the chance to say goodbye.

But now his armor had cracked, and she felt every bit of the pain and love that he’d been holding on to.

She held Aris until he pulled away, which was approximately ten seconds after Sylas threw his arms around them—careful to touch them with only the covered parts of his body—and thirty seconds after, Signa joined in. Elijah likely would have joined, if not for the cat that had claimed his lap.

Aris peeled away when he could no longer bear all the touching and emotion. He combed his fingers through his hair, blinking away what was left of his tears.

“Enough of that,” he said quickly, clearing his throat as he crossed the floor and plucked Beasty from Elijah’s lap. The cat gave no protest as Aris cradled her against his chest once more, turning to address the others. “Let’s get on with the festivities, shall we?”

Aris and Beasty were inseparable for the rest of the day.

When Aris wasn’t holding the cat, Beasty trailed behind him, swishing her tail about.

The cat had watched from the back of the chaise as Blythe and her family set to work on finalizing the tree’s decor.

She’d pawed at the blown-glass ornaments they strung on the branches and sneezed her distaste at the ridiculous figurine of a reaper that Aris had sneaked onto the top of the tree.

She’d also made a fast enemy of Gundry, who didn’t know what to do with himself around Beasty.

It was clear the hound was trying to be a good boy, but there was only so much taunting he could take.

More than once he’d started growling, shadows wisping from his mouth, when the cat batted at his tail.

“We’ll have none of that,” Aris chided, patting the hound on the head once before collecting Beasty and setting the cat in her most favored spot as the family took their places in the parlor to finally exchange gifts.

She curled in Aris’s lap with her eyes squinted shut as he stroked his hands down her spine.

Blythe could have sworn that she caught Beasty gloating at her several times.

The blasted cat seemed to have forgotten how many years Blythe had served at her beck and call, responsible for caring for the beast in Aris’s absence.

She remembered Elijah and Aris… so perhaps Beasty did remember her and was only playing coy. Wretched thing.

It was good to have her back.

“I’ve already received the greatest present,” Aris announced, “and so I will go first.” He didn’t move from his position as two presents popped into the air at once, the first falling onto Sylas’s lap and the other in Elijah’s.

Sylas opened his first, and his lips flattened into a thin line as he lifted a piece of long black silk cloth from the box. It jingled as he held it before him.

“Bells?” Sylas asked. “Really?”

“My brilliant wife suggested that I make gifts by hand this year, and so I’ve made you an updated cowl for your wardrobe. Finally, we’ll be able to hear when you’re skulking about.”

Blythe sighed. “Don’t listen to him, Sylas. I had nothing to do with this.”

Sylas fought back a smirk as he rolled his eyes and went to put the cowl back into the box.

He stilled, spotting something else inside.

Somehow there was a chalice where there had not been one before.

It appeared to be crafted from polished gold, adorned with intricate engravings of vines and flowers that wound around a ruby in the center.

Sylas pulled it out, his entire face spreading wide with a grin.