Chapter one
The Shop Around the Corner
Maddie
“You’rethevillain,right?”A pair of feline eyes narrow on my face, unflinching behind the weathered pine counter of this bookstore my boyfriend Connor and I wandered into. Thick bifocals slope down the store clerk’s turned-up nose, obscuring the unnatural chartreuse hue of her stare, unblinking and unsettling in its assessment of me, as if she’s seen past the outward appearance I’ve put so much effort into perfecting, straight into my soul where I’ve buried Marshmallow Maddie Finch as deep as she will go.
Nervously, I shift my weight onto my opposite foot and stare at the dusty floorboards. People seeing the regrettably soft part of me is something I avoid at all costs.
With a collecting breath, I dig my long nails into my palms, grounding myself in our stand-off. The first rule of Mean Girl Fight Club is not to let on that you’re bothered.
I am calm. I am cool. I am collected.
I should stop staring at the ground.
Lifting my gaze, I meet her eyes, and a kaleidoscope of repeating patterns swirls enchantingly within her stare instead of the previous scrutinizing glare.
“Girl, I said—you’re the villain, right?” Ellie, if the nametag pinned to her cardigan covered in garland and jingle bells is to be trusted, drums her fingers against the dated countertop, waiting for an answer to what I assumed was a rhetorical question.
“Excuse me?” I ask. Maybe I didn’t hear her right over the whir of the table fans rescuing us from a late-summer-like heat wave.
Ah, winter in Texas.
Hot. Demoralizing. Suffocating.
Gorgeous.
A time where, if it wasn’t for the mammoth Christmas tree dominating every outdoor shopping center and Wham’sLast Christmaswhining over this store’s speaker, I could ignore the nauseating merry hell December promises to be.
“No. No. That’s not right. You weren’t supposed to be,” she says with a twitch of her snub nose and a narrow of her cat eyes to slits. “You reek of Jack.”
And wow. Okay, Madeline. Time to move away from the eccentric bookstore owner before you’re stabbed. This isn’t a contest worth winning.
I hazard a glance around the store, searching for Connor, the man responsible for my unfortunate presence here on an otherwise perfect Sunday. Imposing bookshelves loom overhead, filled to the brim with jewel-colored tomes, obscuring my sight line and Connor’s presence. With a sigh, I accept my fate. I don’t trust giving Ellie my back when she’s primed for a lunge and murder scenario, so this conversation, however irritating, will have to continue.
“No offense,” I say, with laser-focused attention on my nails. “But are you sure you’re not smelling whiskey on your breath?”
“Not Jack Daniels, girl.” Ellie slams her hand down on the counter. Change rattles with the drub. I jump—my pulse skitters. The whole commotion is unnecessary. “Jack Frost. He thinks he’s being clever with his spite when he ruins one of my carefully crafted stories. But you’re the one paying, having a heart of frost in someone else’s tale when you should have a beautiful story of love and healing all your own.” She shakes her head. The glass bead chain hanging on the edge of her eyewear catches the light streaming in from the window and a rainbow cascades like a sparkling mirrorball along the wall. It’s far too brilliant of a light show to be cast from such an ordinary object. My stomach twists again. This isn’t a normal conversation with an unhinged, burnt-out retail worker around the holidays.
My ex-best friend Jenny would say it’s because Ellie is clearly fae. Jenny had this theory–well, she had lots of bonkers ideas–but the one she clung voraciously to is that this world hovers near a faerie realm. On Halloween, we enter each other’s orbit, when all the fae are free to play without anyone noticing, and stay through the New Year when the orbits move off each other’s path.That’s why it always feels so magical after Halloween.But her bizarre theory is one of the many reasons we’re no longer friends, so I won’t humor it now.
“Oh, Jack. Are you happy? Her mate is near, and their timing is all wrong.” She tsks, with her head in a solemn bow.
The antique hardwood floor groans as I step back on my heels. I’m unsure whom Ellie is conversing with since it’s not me, and Connor is the only other person in the store.
“Never mind!” she continues, oblivious to my deliberate, creeping retreat. Or maybe she doesn’t care. It’s not like I’m providing much to this unusual tête-à-tête. “I know what I’ll do! Rewrite! Yes! A holiday one, while there’s time! Don’t want to waste a match like yours. It was one of my favorites in this town.” She reaches behind her head, plucking a pencil from her bun. Blonde tendrils, glittering like waves of golden tinsel, tumble past her shoulders in the aftermath.
She brings the tip of the eraser to her lips, tapping it against the harsh slash of her mouth.
Once. Twice. Another time.
“Yes, we’ll have to do a full rewrite. No saving you like this. You’re both too far gone. Jack put fear in his heart, too, you know.”
I don’t, and I should leave. Now.
“That Brady incident shouldn’t have ruined you like it did. Your mate was supposed to save you, but he ran.”
Ellie’s last spiel upends my stealthy retreat.
