I turned away, my heart inexplicably racing.
“You’re missing out,” Mike continued, oblivious to both my discomfort and the dandruff situation that was rapidly approaching biohazard levels. It was like he didn’t even realize it was happening, even though it was falling right in front of him. “Last year, I stayed in a hotel shaped like a giant gingerbread house. They wake you up with carol singers every morning.”
My parents would absolutely love him. They were equally insane about the holiday, their research station probably already dripping with tinsel and those little wooden elves they collected. I’d spent my childhood gagging on the scent of cinnamon pine cones and peppermint everything.
“Sounds like literal torture,” I muttered.
“What was that?”
“Sounds like a real adventure.” I smiled tightly. The lights flickered again, and I couldn’t help but glance at the table of nine overbuilt men, who were still watching me with unwavering attention.
One of them now had the audacity to smirk, like we shared some private joke.
“Please consider my offer. Imagine how magical it will be to go on a sleigh ride. There is so much to do and see.” Mike clearly did not get the hint that Christmas was not my jam.
My water glass frosted over beneath my fingers.
Wait. What?
I yanked my hand back, staring at the delicate crystalline patterns forming at the rim. The water inside was turning to slush before my eyes.
“I’ve actually hand-carved ornaments with a master artisan in Rothenburg ob der Tauber.” Mike’s voice seemed to comefrom underwater now. “It’s all about the proper whittling technique.”
The temperature around our table plummeted. I could see my breath now, forming tiny clouds between us. Mike remained completely oblivious, his cheeks flushing red from the alcohol, white flakes now covering his shoulders.
That’s when I realized it wasn’t dandruff.
It wassnow.
Panic rose in my throat. This wasn’t normal. None of this was normal.
“Are you cold?” I interrupted, my voice laced with panic. “Do you feel how cold it is right now?”
Mike’s expression shifted from confusion to something like alarm. “Your eyes!” He recoiled slightly. “They’re... glowing? Like, actually glowing blue?”
“What? No, they’re not.” I grabbed my phone, switching to the front-facing camera.
Oh shit. My blue eyes were luminous, literally emitting a faint cerulean light. I dropped my phone with a clatter.
The lights above us made an ominous cracking sound.
“Mike, I think we should?—”
Too late. The light right above Mike exploded in a perfect cloud of powdery snow that rained down specifically onto our table, coating him like he was some kind of deranged snowman.
The tables around us carried on like nothing was happening.
Mike sat frozen, mouth agape, flakes clinging to his eyelashes. Then he scrambled backward so quickly his chair tipped over with a crash.
“You’re some kind of… of wi-witch!” he sputtered, brushing snow frantically from his clothes. “Your eyes! The snow! What the hell is this?”
“I don’t know what’s happening.” I was horrified and confused. My hands were shaking, not from cold, but from a strange humming energy coursing through me like an electric current. “I swear I’m not doing this on purpose.”
I watched in stunned horror as Mike knocked over anotherempty chair in his clumsy retreat. His eyes were wide with panic, pupils dilated with primal fear normally reserved for people facing apex predators or tax audits.
“Stay away from me, you... you... ice demon!”
“Mike, wait.” I reached out, only to watch frost patterns bloom across the tablecloth from my fingertips.
