Brax materializes beside us, having shifted into what appears to be a perfect replica of Will Ferrell's Buddy the Elf, complete with the yellow tights and conical hat. "Is this festive enough?"
Lucian groans, running a hand down his face. "Of all the Christmas characters in existence, you chose the most obnoxiously cheerful—" He pauses, studying Brax with reluctant appreciation. "Although... the dedication to those yellow tights is kind of genius in a mentally unstable way."
"The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!" Brax announces in perfect Buddy voice, bouncing on his toes.
"I swear to god, demon," Lucian warns, fighting back a smirk. "If you start singing about Christmas spirit, I will stuff you in the chimney. But... keep the outfit. It's working."
Brax shifts his features slightly, keeping the costume but toning down the manic energy. "Emily's going to flip. She loves this movie."
I straighten my ridiculous reindeer sweater, the blinking nose somehow making me feel less intimidating than I'd like. "If Dani laughs at me in this getup—"
"She'll jump your bones faster than Santa inhaling Rosa's cookies," Lucian interrupts. "Trust me, women love this sentimental crap."
Erik's jaw tightens. "Must you always make everything inappropriate?"
"Must you make everything boring?" Lucian counters. "Besides, I'm just stating facts. Christmas decorations are like vampire Viagra—they make the ladies holly-jolly in all the right places."
The sound of car doors slamming cuts through our bickering. Through the window, I catch sight of Dani's brunette hair. My chest tightens in that now-familiar way that still pisses me off and thrills me in equal measure.
"Places!" Lucian hisses. "Remember—we did this because we wanted to, not because we're whipped. Maintain your dignity, gentlemen."
"Says the man wearing reindeer antlers," Erik mutters.
"They're tactical antlers," Lucian adjusts them on his head. "And they're going to get me laid tonight, so who's the real winner here?"
"I can make snow angels on command," Brax whispers, adjusting his pointy hat. "Just say the word."
"Jesus," I growl, "stay in human form, or I'll exorcise you myself."
The front door handle turns, and for a moment, we all freeze like deer caught in headlights—three ancient vampires and one shape-shifting demon suddenly nervous about whether our women will like our Christmas surprise.
How the mighty have fucking fallen.
Danica
75
It’s impossible. Adrian. Standing here. Breathing. His familiar scholarly presence beside Lilith's designer-wrapped venom like some twisted before-and-after death photo.
My lungs seize.
Skadi's playground comes rushing back—the brutal battle where I fought the Einherjar, including Adrian's ghost. I'd stabbed his phantom form, watched him dissolve into mist. And now here he is, breathing and talking like the last time I saw him without his heart ripped from his chest. The mental whiplash is enough to make me question my own sanity.
Could Morgan have conjured some twisted illusion? No—this is too real, too precise. Every detail matches, from the way he holds himself like he's perpetually about to deliver a lecture to that slight tilt of his head when he's analyzing a situation.
Unless...fuck. The rift. The mystery person Lilith dragged back from death's door. Her new pet project—still bound to her will by blood and compulsion.
"Dotry to remember your manners, Adrian darling," Lilith says with sugary venom as she taps his shoulder with one manicured nail. "It'sdreadfullyrude to keep an old friend waiting."
The silence stretches like pulled taffy until Emily's voice shatters it. "Jesus fucking Christ." Her eyes darting between us like she's watching a tennis match from hell. "Please tell me this isn't the same backstabbing bookworm who got his heart ripped out."
"It's quite good to see you again, Danica." Adrian's voice carries the same measured cadence, the slight professorial tilt that once guided me through ancient texts. "You're looking well. I trust your studies of the ancient codices have continued in my absence."
My absence.As ifhe stepped out for coffee instead of dying in my arms.
Memories crash through me like a tidal wave—Adrian patiently teaching me of the Dark Prophecy in his book-lined study, his quiet excitement when we discovered the crown's power, his devastating betrayal that cut deeper than any blade, his desperate plea for redemption, his final sacrifice, stealing the Soul Stone as Azrael ripped his heart from his chest, the tears I shed, the guilt I carried.
The taste of copper floods my mouth. I've bitten my tongue, trying to hold back the scream building in my throat.
